The Story of My First Rides

Miles away, my school from home, 
Walk the miles to reach the place. 
Not a bus or a service that lifts. 
Every day, we went together, 
That friend who lives in between.  
He waits, and sometimes waited I.  

Met a cycle, me for the first.  
As I stepped in the gate to call my friend.  
Black in colour, medium in size.  
Not be mine, but own the bliss.  
Never been near to it before.  
Hope was born, I was moved to touch.  

There, a change in time, in me, 
Each day, fully on the run. 
Early in time, fast in speed.  
Running the road to catch a thing.  
The unready time of him, I took the chance.  
To hold the new shiny handles before the school.    

Zeal to learn, fear to fall,  
Walk together, like me and mine shadow.  
But each day, I see myself getting ready.  
Slowly betrayed myself of fear.  
Slowly learned my feet to leave the ground,  
Pedals the pedal, and roll the wheels.  

Not a chance to own but a chance to hold a one.  
Fear becomes unprecedented, courage becomes the existence.  
How I learned to ride a cycle.  
Were the days I always remembered  
Each time, I ride through the road fearlessly.