First there is a center of a wheel. A special place where one atom is a side of the other.

In spiraling direction in outward directions to find solace of the horizon; rim.

The attire may seem different. Studs. Rubber. Chains.

The center though, the focus, is special.

I’ve only told two they were special. And why? Because they are/were/and always be, my center.

*

Traveling to the future where the rim is bare, the metal rusted: motion just a memory while the world continues to turn.

I am nothing special.

A square peg on a round wheel.

Though supporting me through shadows and chaos are two very special people.

One on my left.

One on my right.

Carrying me as we all travel.

Both smile, both frown.

Both make this highway of life much more pleasant to follow.

So to both,

i say,

thanks.

One day, high above any pavement/dirt/gravel, to fly free of any tires and wheels, and maybe discover the true meaning of peace.