steep inclines

I've been pedaling bicycles built for twos
Pedaling philosophy from warmed over blues
Dragging sand bags up steep inclines;
Slippery slopes without hopes or traffic signs.
It gets so cold here on the ground,
holding the business end of a seesaw down.
Fragments keep flying while I feel
as if  I'm wilting on the vine.
Pack it in and you're just another quitter.
Keep it up:  You make a damn fine baby sitter.
This getting old is getting old
Surviving simply for the sake of the story
in a land where dreams are
only so much inventory.



[who is reading? please feel feel to comment constructively.]