The music of <br />the squeak <br /> <br />of my father’s <br />bicycle <br /> <br />dragging us up the hill until <br />in a mad blind freewheel <br /> <br />we tamed the hill <br />by transforming it into speed <br /> <br />& shrank the distance <br />ticked off by the spokes <br /> <br />becoming a blur <br />in time <br /> <br />and how sad I was <br /> <br />when he oiled the clanking chain <br />& the fiery front wheel <br /> <br />& the bicycle lost its voice <br />& its ability to sing <br /> <br />in the key of squeak <br /> <br />and how we glided silently in <br />to Mam & tea & T.V <br /> <br />on this lovely summer evening <br />in 1963.<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-a-lovely-sunny-afternoon-in-1963/
