Rust curls where paint once shone

Rust curls where paint once shone,

spokes bent like broken promises.

Flat tires rest on cracked stone,

chain stiff with months of silent misses.

I push the pedal; the wheel wobbles,

a scrape sings metal’s tired song.

Faded scratches and chipped frame,

hands that long for a road long gone.

This bike waits where dust collects,

a silent witness to idle years.

Rust and ruin, forgotten rides,

quiet reminders soaked in tears.