In the summer, I enjoy getting on my bike and riding away. Just to continue and peddle, away from the city, to paths less traversed. I go for miles, till the path turns to gravel, then the gravel turns to dirt. I continue to ride with the wind rushing past me, pushing my strength to carry me uphill, then gliding down drawn by gravity. It is refreshing to breathe the crisp country air, and even if I have gone this way a hundred times, the path shall never bore me.

There she sits, unreachable
To him. He is so imperfect.
She sits across the table,
But he still feels so wrecked.

There she sits, unreachable
To him. He just cannot reach,
This girl who means so much to him,
But he cannot form speech.

There she sits, unreachable
To him. He just needs some courage,
To get their friendship together again,
But he has extra baggage.

There she sits, unreachable
To him. Now he is walking over,
She will turn to smile at him,
And he has the luck of a four leaf clover.