She rode it through the city street,
In a mask to fight the smog,
Slower than a motor car,
But faster than policeman plod.
She wore a fancy headguard,
That could stand a mighty blow,
Should she go slithering down the street,
In a ball of sloshy snow.
Goggles too she had to block all dust,
And insects from her eyes,
And to keep her incognito,
If she ever got work as a spy!
She was the modern cyclist
She trailed no lethal fumes,
As she peddled down town to her office desk,
Entertained by her latest I-Tunes,
In her high visibility Slap Wrap,
And bright yellow reflective vest,
That served very well as an eyecatcher,
As it clung very well to her chest.
The cars were all stuck in a jam,
And the fast lane for buses was blocked,
But the cyclist, undaunted, advantage she flaunted,
And down through her gears quickly dropped,
Giving reign to her onboard computer,
As she weaved in and out through the queues,
Cos wherever she went and whatever she did,
Technology gave her the news.
By making a note when she started,
And how far she'd gone down the road,
And precisely the speed when she did the foul deed,
And carelessly flattened a toad,
Well the cyclist was all in a lather,
And scraped up the toad from the road,
And the computer recorded its temperature,
And worked out "additional load",
Then told of the speed she would need,
To get the poor toad to a vet.
And sorted the fastest clear route,
And even offered the odds for a bet,
As to whether the cyclist would get there,
In time for the toad to survive,
Then changed its on board prognosis,
From 'stable' to 'barely alive'.
Well just a week on, the cyclist was gone,
To the shop where she purchased her bike,
And oh what a pain as she passionately complained,
That the extras they'd given her weren't right,
"How's that, " said the staff, who knew of no gaff,
So the cyclist unflinchingly said,
What use are these wheels if, as part of the deal,
They can't raise a toad from the dead.
Comments about this poem (Great Expectations by Tony Elsby (Poems of life and love) )
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