My Stolen Bicycle

My stolen bicycle

I felt her absence all of a sudden
that emptiness in the east garden
which used to be red year round,
regardless of weather, a bright spot
in my life, a steed always ready to go,
to work, to happy hour, anywhere,
anytime, flashing lights at the ready,
a yellow plastic duck mounted out front
a great companion, gone, gone, gone
I searched the neighborhood, scouring
dirty back alleys, stopping to look twice
at any combination of red and black,
My red Schwinn is gone, and my life
feels stripped of a small thing, yes,
but a dear one.