A Huffy Bicycle, Forlorn in Winter

O Ye’ Winter
At your doorstep
Ignored yet not despised
A bicycle not of your
Twisted and gnarled
Rusted and covered
By rain and snow
Not a rider be
Found
Not an owner be
Sowed
Hark!
I call to passersby
Relive me of this life
Of Forlorn
Melting snow will
Reveal my pride
Red and chrome
And black rubber
A bit of polish along my side
A spot of oil, a brush of grease
And I will take you
to where you go
O Ye’ Winter
May a rider be
Found
I am at your doorstep