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The fog wreaks havoc in my psyche
I try to pedal on my trike
The hill ahead is crimson mist
the pebbles churn into a schist
Imagining a downward spiral
the thoughts turn toward something viral
Eyes that flicker beams of hope
remembering the days of tope
Drawn by dreams of pulchritude
I feel somehow I'm kinda crude
A soul that whispers in the dark
the journey that I must embark
Peace within is up that hill
it's there where I must pedal still
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And as she plays,
her sweet song of laughter
floats through the air
and warms my heart
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