Essays, Art and Plays by Dan

O humble steed, my tireless friend,
Whose wheels never touch the road’s end,
You stand so still, yet miles we make,
In place we stay, yet journeys take.

Your pedals turn with rhythmic grace,
A faithful beat, a steady pace,
And though you never roam or stray,
You carry me so far away.

Upon your frame, I find my flight,
No wind to push, no hill in sight,
Yet strength I build with each soft glide,
And health returns with every stride.

Oh, how you’ve been both muse and guide,
On every trip, on every ride—
The goals we’ve met, the fears we’ve tamed,
The little triumphs, quiet, unnamed.

O steadfast bike, you give the power
To chase the dawn, to seize the hour.
Though wheels stand still, I rise, I fly,
Upon your seat, I touch the sky.