Uncle Bob's Words

Words, poetry, stuff like that

Cycle city

It was the convergence of us

That created the line of our lives,

Which then, in due time, again diverged.


It was the mix of blue and pink

That fleshed out our togetherness.

Yet, colors fade when we look away.


The sound of me, the sound of you,

Produced the soundtrack we danced to.

Then the vibrations stilled as we stilled.


So, the line, the color, the sound

Created by love, ends by its lack.

Cycle city, man, cycle city.


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