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Observations on a Bike Ride
The colors of bloom resonate
against ashen roads.
There goes my childhood home-
the one with the broken fence
& the flowers that called the hummingbirds to gather.
There goes the home of the boy whose stare
made my young mind stutter.
He is gone. He’s been gone.
The church is gone as well.
Like the boy, it has been replaced.
Nice houses sit on the land,
tall and lost.
There goes the school.
There goes the creek.
Gone, gone,
It all flies past me.
On, on,
I roll forward.
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