Are there any activities or hobbies you’ve outgrown or lost interest in over time?
There was a time
when the road looked less like asphalt
and more like a magic carpet
that forgot to fly.
And I?
I rode my bicycle
as if two wheels were enough
to negotiate with the universe.
Butterflies floated beside me
not flying,
flexing.
Showing off their glitter wings
like they were the fashion icons
of the botanical world.
And I chased them
with the confidence of someone
who truly believed
speed was a personality trait.
The sun was my spotlight,
sprinkling warm gold on my face
like a friendly aunty
throwing blessings at a wedding.
Clouds drifted lazily above,
those soft, spoiled creatures
with zero deadlines
and too much attitude.
Every time the wind
whipped past my ears,
I felt it gossiping,
“Look at her…
thinking she’s faster than me.”
So obviously,
I pedaled harder
because childhood egos
are the safest to lose.
The road was full of bumps,
twists, loose stones
basically nature’s way of saying,
“If you fall,
I’ll give you a story.”
And it did.
Scraped knees,
dramatic pauses,
and that tiny moment
between the fall and the rise
where even the dust whispered,
“Go again…
this scene can be improved.”
There were days
I truly believed
my shadow was trying to keep up.
Days I felt the sky
lean in closer
as if taking attendance:
“Present!” I’d shout silently,
racing with dreams
I didn’t even know
were dreams yet.
Those rides weren’t about speed.
They were about that bold, silly hope
that maybe just maybe
the world was small enough
for me to explore
before lunch.
And now?
Life has turned into
traffic, to-do lists,
and grown-up sighs.
But sometimes the wind
brushed against my arm
in that old familiar way,
or a butterfly zigzags past
like a sign I once understood…
And suddenly,
the road inside me wakes up
stretching, sparkling,
smelling faintly of sunshine
and scraped knees.
Maybe I don’t ride every day.
Maybe the bicycle waits longer.
But that childhood version of me
the wild one,
the sky-toucher,
the wind-challenger
she still flutters inside me
like a stubborn butterfly
who refuses to retire.
And honestly?
I think one morning,
when the breeze gets a little naughty
and the sun looks exactly
like an old friend trying not to smile,
I’ll push those pedals again
wobbly, excited,
heart beating like a small drum.
Because some roads
don’t forget you.
They just wait.
And some dreams?
They grow wings
the moment you stop doubting
you had them all along.
Such a vivid way to capture that moment of wondering and awe. ✨
Thank you so much. 🤍✨ I’m glad the sense of wonder came through it means a lot that it resonated with you.🤍✨
This is absolutely delightful—playful, vivid, and deeply moving all at once. I love how you turn memory into motion, letting humor and tenderness ride side by side. The imagery sparkles: the road as a magic carpet, butterflies as fashion icons, the wind gossiping, dust offering encouragement. Beneath the whimsy, there’s a gentle ache for that fearless, hopeful self who believed the world could be explored before lunch.
Thank you so much for such a generous and thoughtful reading🤍✨. Your words feel like you truly stepped into the piece with me. I love how you noticed the tenderness beneath the playfulness that fearless, hopeful self is exactly what I was reaching for. I’m really glad it resonated with you.🤍✨
Tender, playful, and quietly profound. 🚲
You captured how childhood joys don’t disappear they wait.
That last line about roads remembering us? It lingers beautifully.
Thank you Vijay ji, it means a lot to hear that. I love the way you put it: childhood joys waiting, not disappearing. And I’m really glad the ending stayed with you. 🚲🤍✨
This is pure magic, I love how innocence, humor, and philosophy dance together here. The imagery is so alive—you don’t just read it, you ride it 🌤️🦋 The way childhood courage transforms into quiet wisdom is deeply moving. Beautifully written, heartfelt, and inspiring 💛 Keep honoring that inner butterfly—it knows the way 🌈🙏
Thank you Krishna ji 💛✨ It means a lot to know the inner butterfly 🦋 was felt, quietly, gently, and with understanding.🤍✨
A heart touching poem, and the last lines with happy notes are superb. 👌👌👌
Thank you, KK! 🌸 Your appreciation makes my day brighter!🤍✨
There’s something wonderfully alive in the way you let memory move. The bicycle isn’t just transport — it becomes courage, ego, hope, and scraped knees all at once. I especially loved the image of the sky “taking attendance.” It captures that childhood certainty that the world was not just big, but watching kindly.
What makes this piece linger is the quiet turn at the end. The adult world may be traffic and to-do lists, but the road inside you hasn’t retired. That gentle reminder — that some roads wait for us — carries both nostalgia and possibility in the same breath.
Thank you so much 🤍✨Your words feel deeply seen and beautifully understood. I’m grateful that the bicycle, the sky, and that quiet inner road spoke to you because that’s exactly where this piece was written from.
Yes, some roads don’t disappear; they simply wait, patiently, for us to remember how to ride again. 🤍✨