The breeze whipped
With a sunlight tip
Bouncing on the back of that tire.
My armor slipped
With an (un)tight lip
Announcing true lack of that fire.
At the end of a blond curl:
The potential for a whirl
A shake and dance for this literary girl.
A reason to want to perspire.
Roll and ride up
With tree and (un)duck
New teeth to count and number.
Cruise and brake down
Ears open to a music-maker’s sound
A fondness I’d like to remember.