Two Wheels and a Hand

From my window, past the cracked pane,

a flash of chrome.

A small kid, knees pumping,

bike too big, a bright red beast.

He wobbled, a drunk bee on two wheels,

his father, a shadow,

running alongside,

hand a hovering ghost

on the back of the seat.

Not holding, just there.

Ready to catch.

The kid, arms stiff,

face clenched,

trying to find balance,

trying to leave that hand behind.

Me, stuck here, watching.