You lurch away as morning streetlamps throw

Fizzing orange pools on frosty roads.

You seem as fragile as a bird in yellow

Jacket, battered trainers, helmet stowed

On messy hair. You slog through car-clogged streets

On a bike as thin and white as polished string.

Heavy lorries rumble past in complete

Contempt. You dodge between high buildings.

I must not nag you to stuff your rucksack

With inner tubes, money, mobile phone;

Nor worry as the minutes seem to slow

As I await you coming famished back.

You’re capable of coping on your own,

I’d better close the door and let you go.