Abandoned

Abandoned on the promenade,

A big-wheeled trike did sit,

Forlornly waiting for the tyke

Who should be riding it.

 

I passed it on my morning walk,

When few are up and out

And seeing it, I wondered

What its story was about.

 

For why was it forgotten?

Did the mom leave in a rush?

Or the dad or sitter tending to

A child’s scraped knee a’gush?

 

Or perhaps they came across some friends

And headed to the swings

With the tricycle remaining there,

Ignored for better things.

 

I hope someone remembers it

And comes to take it home,

Where it belongs much more

Than as a subject for a poem.