Old Bicycle

I was walking down the street one day
With my body in autopilot and mind far away
Thinking of the events that had made my mood most grey.
Wondering if today it would actually rain
A quiet reminder of the world’s silent pain

But as I walked along I found something quite bizarre
Something I had never seen on my journey thus far
An old Bicycle tied to a tree at the handle bar
I have never seen this thing before yet I had taken this road many times
Wondering if it just got here or if it’s been here this whole time

The Bicycle was warn and old
As if it had witness ages history would rather leave untold
Where have you come from little bike?  If I may be so bold
But the bike did not answer for it was made of rubber and metal most cold
However it was clear upon seeing this thing that it had a story to be told

My mind started to race,
My heart tried to match its pace
As the mystery of the bike depend into the darkest reaches of my mental space.
Could it be from the remnant of some great war?
Or has it been an heirloom treasured for family chores?

Where did it come from the design was so strange
Maybe it came from a country far away
Or maybe it was one of a kind built by some mechanic using whatever parts he may
What a strange little thing
It has no voice of its own but for some reason it seemed to sing

Its dents and scratches sang a tale of bravery
Its worn tires warned of paths it had taken which were quite scary
And also spoke of the different roads it had taken which were no doubt many
The handlebar was worn but stood defiant
As if to say it had emerged triumphant

At casual glance this bike could easily be mistaken for trash
But if you took a moment to see its past
You would realize such actions would be foolishly rash
This bike was something to be treasured
For it had endured hardships that would be impossible to measure.

As I stood staring it started to rain
As if the world was telling me to be on my way
So I left thinking I would see the bike some other day
But it was not to be
For when I returned the next day the bike was not waiting for me

Was the bike ever truly there?
Or was it simply something I wished to see?
Something lost now found standing next to a tree.