The Bike Daddy Made For Me

    

I didn’t know bikes sold in stores in shiny red and blue;

My bike was made of junk yard parts my daddy sorted through.

My brother and my sisters all had bikes that Daddy also made;

And learning to ride my own bike was something that I craved.

My Daddy promised me a bike when I reached six years old;

As that birthday loomed ahead, my begging grew more bold.

Finally he went to the basement to build a bike for me,

Using all those rusted parts he picked up nearly free.

The bike he built was very large for a little girl like me;

So I had to learn while standing up, but how hard could that be?

With staunch determination, I tried and took a fall,

And wished with all my little heart that bike was not so tall;

But in time I learned to stand and ride which made my daddy proud

Of how I took those many falls and never cried out loud.

My bike was balanced perfectly and I could ride, “no hands”

After I grew tall enough to sit instead of stand.

The bike was never shiny and it really wasn’t “new”

But it taught a little girl to have fun while “making do”.

                                                                                     

 by Betty Killebrew