Cycle

CYCLE

My young girl friend is about seven. I never actually asked her. Normally I initiate our conversations, while she watches me expectantly, waiting for me to make the first move. But today there is a matter too urgent to be subordinated to the demands of protocol. "Hello Uncle," she calls out from her cycle the moment she sees me. "Look at me!"

It's been a long day at work, and I'm not at my observant best. I scan her for signs of something different – new hair clips, hair band, shoes maybe? – but detect nothing unusual.

"See my cycle, no!' she urges.

Finally I notice it – she's on a spanking new cycle, the handlebars still with the polythene wrapping on them. "Whoa, that's a fine cycle! And red is my Favourite Colour. What is it, birthday present?"

She laughs at me indulgently. "Don't you know my birthday got over long ago?"

"Yes, of course, how silly of me", I say, though I have no idea when her birthday is.

"It's because my old cycle became too small", she explains. "Mummy says I'm growing so fast that she'll have to get me new clothes every month."

"Hey Sweetie, time to come ho-ome", my young friend's mother sings out from the second floor balcony.

"I have to go now, Uncle. You can try out my cycle tomorrow if you want."

"Thank you", I reply, "but I think my legs have grown too long even for your new cycle."

"Maybe if you're really careful…", she says, and runs off up the stairs.

large moon today
I fumble in my pocket
for the house key

(In: Simply Haiku, Vol 8 No. 1, Summer 2010)