Cold Bicycle Ride

We didn’t plan to stop, but stops will come
We kept our bikes in tune; our wheels would hum
But Lake Oneida’s air was cold as hell!
I’m glad I rode with Mari. Why? I’ll tell.
She has more common sense than me, I’m sure
She knew we needed warmth and where we were!
She found MacDonald’s, stopped, and went inside
I sat with her; we nursed our wounded pride
She made me drink hot chocolate, no demand
But gratefully I drank, then held her hand
Our fingers warmed enough to shift or brake
I’m glad that Mari knew what we could take
I’m also glad she likes hot chocolate, too
“Dear Mari, I’d ride anywhere with you.”

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