My wheels tread across the ground.
Hair, slick with sweat, under glazed, hard helmet.
“Safety first,” Momma said.
My legs push forward on the pedals, falling back down and spinning back up.
An endless cycle of motion, of rebirth, spitting out distance.
The wind beckons me.
This freedom for which I yearned.
Wrapped on my body like a veil.
These wheels are my meaning,
And this ride is my life.