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 135 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2026-01-20 at 10:49

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Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
Your poem has been chosen to be featured on the home page of PoetBay. Thank you for posting on our poetry website!
2026-01-26


Ray Miller
Thanks both. It's about old age, but there's also a lot of sexual innuendo which only minds as dirty as mine would notice.
2026-01-21


Haseen Whel
Your words carry the ache of change, the way time reshapes what once felt effortless. The image of him buried in that catalogue is both heartbreaking and tender, a reminder of how we cling to movement even when it shifts form. You’ve captured the quiet grief of watching vitality fade and the love that lingers despite it.
2026-01-21


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