Where once I heard her voice in song I hear it now insist,
That "Holding tight to handlebars will strain the stoutest wrist."
Where once she played a light guitar she now proclaims in ire
That only "Dingbat tires are good" and sneers at single tires.
Where once she spoke in charming ways of her way to build a cake
She orates on the graceful ease she coasts without a brake.
Of spokes and bloomers, sprockets, chains, of pedals and the like
My better half will talk for hours since she has bought a bike.
