Monday, July 25, 2016
I'd like to think it was owned by just one child... who loved the stuffing right out of the seat cushion. One pair of hands that hung on to the handle bars so tight that the contoured finger grips were diminished right down to bare metal.
How many miles has it clocked? How many revolutions of the pedal? How many trips around the world? Or... the neighbourhood. It was one child's whole world.
Did it have streamers? A polished silver bell? That soft blue metal frame... I hope it was always that colour.. just maybe not as bruised with rust as it is now. So many war wounds... too many playground battles... a hundred secret stories.
It's a velveteen rabbit, of sorts. Abandoned by the roadside... left for dead. But it fell into the right hands... the hands of a girl with child's poems in her pockets. Its fate, undetermined. But, I think it has a few more road trips ahead... it just might have to take the slow lane.