MY WIFE’S CHILDHOOD MEMORIES
My wife when young found her thrill
Riding bicycle down Washer Hill…
Flying down that road
Angels are owed
Credit for preventing a spill!
All these years, I thought it was dirt,
Like the road down to Aunt Myrt’s…
Had visions of rocks
Being avoided–no shocks–
Now she claims it was paved, not that adverse.
She still says downhill she was flying,
Feeling free for the moment from crying…
Fear in her life
Cut like a knife,
But her love of bike riding–undying.
Other moments on her bike were tense,
When she wiped out under an electric fence…
Which she did regularly
Until learning turns safely
From their driveway with much less suspense!