i’m sorry to say
you’ve paid your dues
in pavement meanderings,
spills on concrete,
thousands of miles
up and down hills.

now you will hang,
a bat in the close-lidded garage
waiting for the day
when i might strap on a pack
and pedal you into the sunset.

i have wings now,
feather-light
glow-in-the-dark
smooth-as-weathered-stone wings
that will fly
fly
fly me
farther than you could ever take me.