My eyes must be deceiving me.
It’s my childhood bike.
I reflect on the hours of recreation we had together.
You gave me happy days of endless activity.
I never thought I’d grow to ignore you, but other things took your place.
Here you are in Momma’s crumbling house; your body rusted, consumed with decay.
I didn’t expect you to be here among the memories of my childhood.
You played a sweet symphony of shades of color for me to enjoy.
Fear of endings grasps my emotions.
I banish them to the disposable world, and their unique beauty ends.
2021©Isadora De La Vega
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100 words
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