The Red Bicycle

As I strolled along
The brick walkway
Peeking into windows
Of quaint little shops
The red bicycle at the corner
Whispered "hello"
And beckoned me to stay

Although I could not oblige
I wondered about the history
Of the red bicycle
The life that it had seen
Before it became
The ambassador
Of that little cafe

Its paint well-weathered
The red bicycle had not lived
A pampered, garage-dwelling life
Its scratches and scrapes
A testament to its once-lively existence

Had it spent many an evening
Traveling up and down
Country roads
Lined with lush green fields
Dust a-flying, gravel spewing
Racing to make it home by dinner

Perhaps it had ambled along quiet streets
Passing rows of tidy houses
With neatly manicured yards
Delivering the morning paper
As the sun gently rose
On the horizon

Did the red bicycle ever
Proudly display
A shiny new horn
To honk at its friends
The blue and the green bicycles
As they swiftly passed by

No matter the tales of its storied past,
The red bicycle now takes
A well-deserved rest
Perched in front of the cafe
Sprigs of grass growing at its feet
Whispering "Hello" to passerby.....