Lockdown Poem: Like Riding A Bike

Like riding a bike


We do half-moons around each other’s

personal safety circles,

past carbuncled stumps, potholed

pavements, car bonnets.


Yet, pure-as-glass children

still shout out to strangers,

amidst this absence of playful

passing bys and high-fives.


We have to shrug it off,

this yearning for touch.

Back and forths across park fields –

must postpone hugs.


Where does it end?

Where is the line crossed?

If a learning-to-ride child

wobbled and then flopped


off their bike –

knees all scuffed –

would we stop and pick them up?

They’re learning too,


all these new rules,

the sliding scale of age,

teachings of temporary measures.

Would exuberant youth


stick out a palm to

the two-metre long

reach of help and refuse?

Picking up their bikes,


no shrieks, return to size-four feet

to hop back on the seat

and go again.



Christy Hall




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