I distinctly remember the excitement my young son felt when he took his saved-up allowance money to buy a bicycle that the neighbor's boy owned. I wrote this poem about it:
His tire was flat.
The boy who sold
him the bicycle
knew it was just
about worn out.
Sadly he studied
the rubber that once
had been round
and solidly firm.
Trust was shattered
and doubt raised,
while honesty hung
as useless as
his twenty dollar
bargain--bought bicycle.
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