THE GIRL WITH THE BIKE

A memory.
Sudden.
Precise and sharp like few others.
A little girl.
I think bigger than me.
Always riding his black bicycle.
Short blond hair.
Slightly moved.
Dark floral dress.
She always smiled at me.
But we never exchanged a word.
I saw her for a year.
The next one was gone.
I don’t know what it was called.
And I didn’t dream of it.
My parents have seen it too.
So of one thing I’m more than sure.
It was real.
As much as me.

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