BICYCLE, MY LINNET!

My bicycle
Sees me
through her sparrow eyes,
Hopping and bopping
The road so nice

All intuitive feed
Soak my visceral from
As, not of iron and wheels
But of perceptive demure:
Modest and shy
My little linnet, ferry me along

And,
Creaking and screeching
She rasps my gyrating mind;
Tacit and silent
She pecks me
To lubricate the run

Yet, with grey plumage
My bicycle sprint:
The rust and oxides that weaves its turn
My little Rolls Royce runs

My bicycle
Sees me
Through her many forms
Cuddling and clasping my steel hands