For awhile now, I've felt the pull to write some poetry. I don't consider myself a poet by any stretch of the imagination, but I do enjoy dabbling in it every now and then. The last couple of weeks, one idea in particular kept nudging me, so after writing down the thoughts that kept pestering me, this is what I came up with while enjoying a beer and after some rearranging and revision.
The green tape wrapping the handlebars is stained,
black chain grease smears have worked themselves deep
and no amount of soapy water can loosen their grip.
I worry over the smudges marring the once pristine color,
wanting what was
before the miles of gray road that sometimes stretched long
into the distance, with no clear markings to ease my anxious need
to know what lie ahead at the horizon, and other times ascended
until the thin air brewed protesting wheezes
within my aching lungs.
Before has vanished, Lachesis' whim turning the crank,
grinding away my minutes, hours, days beneath the tires,
their soft whir against the pavement calming my worries
with whispered promises that one day
the black smears will have meant nothing.