This Is Progress

Remember I my college days, The fun of cycling to nowhere At the leisurely twelve an hour— A speed enough yards to cover And better than walking up there Where no bus plied but horse carriage Answering the call of that age— That had little to do with speeds, An age known for its casual ways, Happy were folks when with bare needs. Decades four and speedy wheels now, Many a charm-less change and later, I'm now supposed to be somehow Able to drive faster and better, What with myriads of moving wheels, O with tempers mounting steep hills! ___________________________________________ Reflections | 03.01.04 |