My blue trike

It is of blue colour
my trike when I am five
is what I feel when
riding downhill

very daring
that's what I learn to be
can feel the breeze
in my hair

world gets shattered
because of grease on socks
trike is sold
freedom goes down the drain
I am a little girl again

hate them life-long
those white socks for kids
banned from my house
my daughter asks me one day
why can't I wear white socks

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem