Training Wheels

 Training wheels cradle my ride

breaking my fall as I pump & glide

rocking from side to side, glide,

side to side, glide.


I put these wheels back on again

seeing how I was about to spin

out into fantasy land where I’d

fallen before and scraped my

shin, red ripped my skin, not

quite getting the art in my story,

falling apart. 

Just when I thought this gradient

was stable and I wise, more than

able, then gears, cogs and bolts

went into a wobble. It was only

an illusion I’d cobbled from my

imagination, “if only” enabled.

Old view looking for new, expanding

horizon, while looking inward, inward,

inward, too. Perfect timing, with Covid

and all, to see what I can get to stick

to my future self wall. Not too late to learn

a new language … “Brute, et tu?”

—Martha Koock Ward

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