The Red Bike

The red bike,

It just sits,

No one ever touches it,

No one ever claimed the bike,

After years in the park,

It lost some of its shine after tons of storms,

The rust comes and covers the beautiful paint,

The weeds begin to wrap around the wheels,

The bike doesn't look as beautiful as it used to,

But now it's a part of people's memories,

Just yesterday an little kid climbed up and pretended it was his own bike,

That's why it was placed there,

 I placed it there, 

All those years,

And after all those memories,

My wish finally came true.