sometimes we come in limping
our bicycle built for two
having seen better days
somewhere along the way
spokes were bent
heart gears catching
desire a tire tread worn thin
and once brave hearts
balk at the thought of
riding such a rusted beast
for endless numbered days
but thankfully you are a mechanic
and in the corner of your shop
is a patient stool
and I have the rest of the afternoon
to wile away any window of mercy
to once again
put my faith
in your kind and sooted hands
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