My Bicycle And I

Last week when I was sorting through my Mom's old papers I discovered this poem she wrote in school. (I'm guessing it was around 1950, she didn't date her school papers.) I liked it so much I took it with me to read to her when I went to see her Thursday.

I told her I found a poem that I wanted to read to her. She wanted to know who wrote it, but I wouldn't tell her until after I read it to her. I hoped I could get her to say she liked it before telling her who wrote it. I didn't think she would admit to liking it after I told her that she had written it. As soon as I finished she asked again who wrote it. I asked if she liked it. She asked if I had written it. I said, "No, I didn't write it". But, "Did you like it?" She finally said yes, rather reluctantly. "Who wrote it?" she asked again. I told her she did. She didn't believe me until I showed her the paper with her "by line" on it. Her final comment was that she "never really liked poetry very much."

Well, anyway, I think it's charming:

My Bicycle And I
     by --E. J.

My bicycle and I,
   Go sailing down the road,
When the sun is in the sky,
   Or when the weather's very cold.

Long shadows from the trees,
   Cross our path way.
Wafted on the breeze,
   Comes the fragrance of the hay.

The fragrance of the flowers
   Is wafted to my nose,
As I pass many rosy bowers,
   Among the flowers it makes me want to dose.