Can't use the old sledge anymore,
Our frames are too alike.
Bits hang over and drag the floor,
I'm sticking to my bike.
Can't face the thought of sliding,
Snow flying in my face,
Or little kids deriding
My pathetic lack of pace.
Can't skate another frozen lake,
Or grow an icicle.
I'm a Summer boy, for goodness sake,
With trusty bicycle.
Martin T. Hodges
Posted over on his site Square Sunshine
Listed as #29 over on Magpie Tales 44