Nobody wanted the old, orange bicycle

Tangerine paint was peeling away

Flattened tires screamed neglect

It rested against a fading brick wall

On an unknown street

In an unimportant town

In an insignificant state

The sunshine bike was wanted, once

Quinn had wanted it

Chubby toddler hands poked at present wrappings

Playing pretend fairy-horse games

Racing around her secluded suburban neighborhood

Until she raced away to college

And the sun set on the sunrise bike

The pumpkin bike was wanted, once

Otto had wanted it

Juggling coffee cups, finance reports, and a mid-life crisis

Cruising around the Big Apple

He got it from a pawn shop

And gave it parks, falling leaves, and bustling traffic

Before giving the pumpkin bike to the thrift shop on Main Street

The monarch bike was wanted, once

Ms. Idisit had wanted it

Suffering through her sister’s death

Picking the bike because it reminded her of someone

She pedaled in the rain and snow

Delivered flowers daily to a lonely stone

Until she forgot the monarch bike outside the florist’s

Nobody wanted the odd, orange bicycle

It had seen too much

Aging away like the stories it held

Melting into the bricks where it rested

Because memories come and go

Change is the only permanent thing

And nothing lasts forever, not even orange bicycles