A Ferrari and a bicycle
Doesn’t vie for the top spot
In a race that the world knows is unfair;
For if there was a competition
Where the winner was judged
By the time spent in the journey,
For curiously appreciating the hill-top view
From every sharp turn,
For slowing down to let the stray dog pass
And for contemplating over
The aroma of wild flowers
While being nipped by the November air,
The cyclist would’ve indeed been
The winner.
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