Papa's RideĀ 

Poetry by | October 19, 2014

Papa surrounds
his arms around me
securing, supporting
and never letting go.
While his big hands
that smelt of earth
and roughed with calloused
are cautiously holding
our weight
as he placed them
on the handles of his bike.

I sit on a metal rod
having the same view
of the narrow road
slowly easing
between the scenes
of flowers
of rainbows
of trees
But Papa traded
his two wheels to have four
saying that having more
would take us to places.

Now, I sit beside him
on a cushioned seat
with a belt
replacing the safety
of his arms
His hands pale and perfumed
steering blindly
between streaks of scenes
only seeing half
of the view
of the road.

Joissen Marie Bacharpa is an AB English student of AdDU.