If other men are cars
You are my bicycle.
Eccentric individualist
tweed jacket and tie.
Some women might mock
yesterday's Englishman
I am enchanted.
Cars aren't always fast:
traffic snarled, fume choked
while bicycles slip past
in nonchalant freedom.
Your independent mind
leaves lesser man baffled.
I am impressed.
But like a bicycle
our relationship's hard work.
As I still struggle up hills
I wonder if before long
I'll leave you rusting
while I look for a car.
I am exhausted.
Source: BBC- h2g2 / The Underguide / Poetry
