Wild thing

You are gone:

stolen by a thief

in the night

to my regret

for all the things

we never did

and never said;

the roads

we didn´t get

to travel;

the horizons

never met.

Now you pedal

to a different tune,

perhaps faster

ghosting through the city

sirens in pursuit,

tempting disaster;

pockets full of loot.

Do you regret

the songs unsung

and wild

adventures missed;

uncrossed

from the bucket list?