When I was a tike,
I would ride my trike.

Sometimes I’d fly a kite.
It would sail outta sight.

Then I became a big boy.
And pretended I was a cowboy.

I traded my trike.
For a shiny bike.

I took it with me as I hiked.
Man,  was I psyched.

As I recall the fun,
I can still feel the sun.

I sit here by the creek,
I still want to seek.

The thrill of a new toy,
And the joy of that boy.

RGH
2-10-19

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