The winds
blow high,
And sweep
our bleak, deserted stations dry.
An
ancient ritual has begun,
A
forbidden taboo not to be sung,
For upon
a moonlit plain there lies,
A lone
cycle, as I raise a bitter cry.
Twice
now, as I have gazed,
My cycle,
leaving me utterly fazed,
Has left
be behind, and yet again,
I have to
question what is preordained.
A year
past, this had happened once,
A feeble
lock, weak to the pounce,
Gave way
to the Lurker, waiting in the shadows,
Dragged
off to Neverland, I let loose my arrows.
Upon
borrowed cycle, I queried the streets,
High and
low, finally in bitter defeat.
But lo!
For there it was!
Outside
sinister Tapti. An early gift from
Clause.
Now a
rerun, I tire of this, whereupon,
Yet again
have I run the marathon.
Now I
give, for history does not repeat,
Again
will I find it? My luck is deplete.
So I turn
to you now, help me out here a little?
Keep your
eyes open, and answer my riddle -
For what
Red has two wheels, a rusted bell,
An Axn
Dx, with "Turbodrive" pommell?
Branded
upon it side, my name,
Anoop V,
in faded letters of fame,
A number
to further open the door:
NA09B004.
Find it
you must, my legs plead,
For a
kilometre they cannot, so godspeed,
Treats in
plenty I will put,
So get
out there, the race is afoot!