As Far As I’d Like

We haven’t cycled together for years.
First he started to struggle with hills,
which once he’d get up without changing gear.
Then there were the spate of punctures and flats

he never bothered to learn how to fix.
I bought him those special Kevlar tyres,
extra hard and endurable. That were
smashing until he began to complain

of pain in his knees and couldn’t come
as far as I’d like. Then he’s knocked off
his bike outside the chip shop. This car
drove straight at me like I weren’t there.

You wouldn’t believe it. I said I would,
you know, sometimes I wonder if I am too.
He doesn’t take any notice, of course,
his head is permanently buried

in that mobility scooter catalogue.



Poetry by Ray Miller
Read 19 times
Written on 2026-01-20 at 10:49

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
Ah, yes, the problem of ageing. As one who is well into this process, I am aware that there eventually comes a stage - an ending - when the body becomes absolutely useless... and indeed lifeless. It shows great caring and compassion that you tried to accommodate his diminishment and make cycling easier for him at each stage of the way. Your poem actually reminded me of my father-in-law who went even further than studying mobility scooter catalogues and ended up with a garage full of them! Blessings, Allen
2026-01-20