THE RED TRICYCLE
On weekdays
My Mom went to make hats
At a milliners’ shop.
My brothers left me too
To go to school.
So my grandma would give me
Lunch in a packsack
And I would go off to work on my red tricycle
To meet the milk man, the post man
Feel the border bumps
Of the cement slab sidewalks
Under my wheels.
On weekends I took time off
Like any workman