Grandpa

a grey bike,
with fury seat,
and spokes that sang,
as down the street,
in delight I rode,
my feet held out,
my hands wrapped tight,
'round Grandpa's belt.
cousins smiling,
stood and watched,
with bated breath,
and whirring thoughts.
until their turn,
it came to ride,
Grandpa's super,
soaring, pride.