Boy with a Topknot 

He pushes first
Atop his seat
One foot then two
Along the street.

His face a mask
He concentrates
His goal the first
Of many dates.

He hits a hill
His pace now slow
I watch him pass
Through my window.

The off-white pants
The belted hips
The ankles bound
With cycle clips.

The flowers bought
In cellophane wrap
Tied quiver-like
Across his back.

The effort makes
A tiny frown
He never lets
His own hair down.

Appearance, manners
Comments weighed
A hundred careful
Choices made.

Conversations
Cups of tea
Large windows
Looking out to sea.

I watch him cycle
On his way
From sight and mind
Till next Sunday.

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