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