Pat’s Recumbent Trike

 He’s quite the celebrity here, you know.

It started not so long ago

When, bored with his conventional bike

Pat bought himself a recumbent trike.

 

It looks just like a racing car

Except with pedals and handlebars.

The engine boosts his pedal power

The top speed? Eighteen miles an hour!

 

It’s sleek and black and low to the ground.

It stalks the highways like a hunting hound.

By night it’s wreathed in red and white

Swathed front and rear with Christmas lights.

 

The seat has had an upgrade now.

New, shiny mudguards stern and bow

Will fling the mud into the gutter

Defying rain’s insistent splutter.

 

And see! Like some demented sailor

He hauls in his wake a yellow trailer

Filled with treasure in golden casket

Or laundry for Mum in a silver basket.

 

If you should see that rare conveyance

Hold not your praises in abeyance!

A wave, a smile, a bright ‘Hurray!’

Will speed him merrily on his way.

First published in Reach Poetry

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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