Mini-Bike

Best friends they were for those three summers
They each built a mini-bike
A bicycle frame
A welded base for a lawnmower engine
And most importantly
No brakes
No fear either.

One bike was red the other blue
Oh, what fun they had
Blasting up and down those childhood streets
Engines roaring as those few years raced by
A blur of youth lost too soon.

They felt out of touch as teenagers
Never reconnecting
Nowadays he walks that old neighborhood
Sometimes hearing the echo of those engines
Roaring on the wind swirling
Up and down those long-ago streets
Gleaming like the paint
On those magical bikes
When friendships were golden
And thought to last
Forever.