September 12, 2026
Lonely poor kids’ bikes
raising dust us hopeful tykes
by descending light.
Naive of a world
full of grown up boys and girls
their sick wraths unfurled.
You just didn’t know:
fame their rule of rigged gameshow,
fickle to and fro.
You just couldn’t play.
Riches their ticket to say
which rules shouldn’t stay.
Forced to roll their dice
loaded with hopes from advice
in their favor nice.
Go far on that ride!
Like clouds washed down to the tide
hopes and dreams confide.
Day and night you race
that road without winner’s ace,
opposite their face.
You will not dislike
the road which they cannot strike
upon your used bike.
Autism Librarian