A poem, “a bicycle on the move,” submitted by Romina, age 46. A bicycle on the move A bicycle on the move Maintenance, did you say? Tires are getting low Too many holes in the road Bumps have affected my shape And I am carrying a heavy weight The breeze feels refreshing but cold Cold gets into my inner emptiness Emptiness. Is that how it feels? What’s wrong? Other bikes are riding along… I have no clear path or freedom There is fog menacing my wisdom Sounds of nature are suddenly close I feel the soft soil embracing my rubbery
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Documenting COVID-19:
A Bicycle on the Move
community poem, covid-19, COVID19, Documenting COVID-19, poem, poetry, and white plains.