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Of cycling

My finger tips clutch tightly
As I race down the hill
The crisp morning air colliding with my face
I feel alive

The world looks and sounds different from this saddle
I hear my tyres caressing the road
I hear the walking commuters talking
I notice stores and treasures I haven’t seen before

I welcome the fresh air in my lungs
The fresh perspective
Did I say, I feel alive?

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Author:

I am an aspiring and up and coming writer. Dubbed the wondering wanderer. Do come check out my stories.

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