Gene James Gilbert

It was the flying Schwinn they stole
Little Johnny and Jim.
A girl´s bike be it,
but it beat walking to the playground,
and Sissy wouldn´t mind
(or at least know),
her two loving brothers´
held the twenty-four-inch hand-me-down
in good stead,
Jimmy at the pedals
and Johnny on the bars,
riding smooth as silk
like sterling on silver,
´til they hit the four inch curb,
the rusted bike frame
splitting in two,
leaving Jimmy on the asphalt
and Johnny
on his journey
to the stars.