I have writ a po'm (and invented a word).
We ride our bike
(So leisure-like)
O'er mud-swept slick so grey.
A lonely ride
(No country-side)
Spurned cheer o' hill and dale.
I wish to be
(Quite fancy-free)
Sweet grass o' Future Days.I can't even begin to tell you how much I miss my dad's farm
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