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The Cyclist

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One of his main deliveries
Spun him on a wild crazy route
Past his city’s Central Park tenements
The gaudy peeled-brick laundromat
Pinched in next to Adanac Apts.
(Canada spelled backwards)
House of Prayer & Port of Spain
Wedged in and weary of waiting
Kids trudging early to daycare
Voices of many nations babbling
Then, a sudden burst of color
Herons, sea waves, tulips, fish
Fired, etched, blown, translucent
He waited outside some days
Watching the stained glass storekeeper
Roll up heavy steel shutters
Unfolding a feast for the eyes
A cacophony of Tiffany shades
Teardrops and cascading waterfalls
Rare blooms, doves, rippled ferns
Prairie grasses, moons and suns
And his favorite creation
A fantastical mesh of wings
Birds of every feather flocked
Imprinting forever in his mind
And in his taut tethered limbs
Night flying dreams

©2012 S. Michaels
Blank Canvas
Seven Love Stories – Dan & Isabel

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Author: LightWriters

Faith child. Poet. Photo-buff.

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