Riding a bike in the exhaust of cars
On streets black-tarred where trees once bravely stood
And climbing a hill. We couldn’t go on
So flung our two-wheeled steed on grass
While car-fumes passed like dragon-gas
From wars in days of yore.
Cucumber sandwiches for tea but they
Belong to times long-gone as well
And who could tell? We had French bread
A long wide loaf and shared the green
Cucumber passed from hand to hand
While drivers wouldn’t understand
But we were exhausted
Riding a bike
Two saddles two wheels two riders and
Two trees to wave us on.
The final ReadWritePoem prompt is whatever we want it to be, so I'm posting one of my poems from the PoeticAsides challenge, where the prompt was "exhausted."