One Never Forgets How to Ride a Bike

If the choice for an early Friday morning is either to sleep in late or to wake up at the crack of dawn, get dressed in a hast and rush down the street to meet up with a bunch of early birds each pedaling through the empty streets of Cairo, I think most of us would opt for the first decision. After a long 9-5 week, the weekend offers a long awaited time for rest and recuperation.

Those select few who go for the second choice though know that nothing can clear the mind and re-energize the soul as well as a chance to experience an unspoiled Cairo, one with big empty streets, a gentle teasing breeze and a calm demeanor.

With that in mind a few of my friends and I ventured to meet up with a group of early risers promising a biking tour. With no bike and rusty knees we yawned and grumbled throughout the drive over the 6^th of October bridge, once we actually met with the group and managed to secure some bikes (some in acceptable conditions others in suspicious state), the day looked bright and sunny.

The saying “you never forget how to ride a bike” came to mind when after years of walking, driving and riding, I found my self on top of an old blue bike (in surprisingly good shape). pedaling through the streets of Cairo was just an exhilarating experience. The air seemed fresher and the trees a little greener and the cheerful, laughing mob just added to the experience.

I am not sure if it was the early hour, the gracious weather or just the novelty of the scene, but very few sneered at us, mostly car drivers were surprisingly gracious to a school of bikes crossing the street, and most passerby’s were amused at the site of the colorful flock of bikes sweeping though the empty streets.

Needless to say I now state on every media possible that I am the proud owner of a brand new bike. I can’t wait for the working week to be over so I can wake up bright and early, hop on my bicycle and meet up with my new mates to experience the exhilaration of good workout while enjoying my unspoiled homeland.

So if you forgot the joy of biking, how you couldn’t wait to go round and round … we are here to remind you that nothing compares to a bike ride!!

© Sherine Meshad, 15 April 2008

The Fairytale Untold

The Fairytale Untold

By Sherine Meshad

---

Do you think patience is a virtue?

Do you think silence is made of gold?

Do you think what they’ve always taught you?

Is all you ever need to know?

***

Do you think life is just a passage?

That the story has been foretold?

A mere narration of a script,

Whose words are written on planks of stone?

***

Do you think dragons live in dreams?

Trolls help to guard pots of gold?

Happy ever afters not made for movies,

True love endured as the tale unfolds?

***

Are we my friend measly observers?

Simple chess pieces placed on the board?

Awaiting our queue on the stage of existence,

To speak out lines, till the curtains fall?

***

©Sherine Meshad, 15 February 2008

Photographs

*Click*Snap*Flash*

Another memory gets recorded

The album of time holds a new photograph

***

Jeans shorts and a ponytail

Scrapped knees and a smile that’s rare

An old portrait from a fairytale

***

Childhood mates with toothy grins

Enfolded in friendship, protected by dreams

Living in a fantasy world, that’s evergreen.

***

A bundle of roses in anxious arms

Secret message wrapped in fragrance and charm

Capturing the affection of an unsuspecting mind

***

A day of beginning, a farewell to past

Armed with aspirations, dreams and hopes to broadcast

A sea of flying caps, cheers and speeches to last

***

White roses and a layered cake,

Kissing lovebirds dancing to a serenade

The perfect ingredients for an enchanted day

***

Old love that new, in an ancient couple’s heart

Years of laughs and tears, itched in with wrinkles and scars

Giving the impression, history has been kind

***

Palm trees bowing to a setting sun

Chanting a lone melody and swaying as one

Waving green branches in a farewell song

***

Flipping through life’s album,

Days and years surpass, with an adieu to existence,

We turn over the final photograph.

***

© Sherine Meshad, 29 Sept 2007

Reflections

Cloaked emotions, wrapped in silk,

Tugged away in backs of closets,

Sheltered in darkness to be unveiled,

Once old wounds are healed and mended.

***

Old skeletons find means to slip past,

Lock and bolt to glide into unconsciousness,

Drifting past thoughts into dreams,

Escorting wariness in a midnight waltz.

***

Past and present seem no strangers

Distorted likeness of same self

Mirror images gawking at one another

Through a mudded glass screen of time

***

Passions pressing against a dame of regrets

Bounded by hurt and hurdled by anger

Dribbles through barriers as sands of time trickles

Drowning wounds in shrouds of the long-ago.

***

Shadows and darkness both take shelter

As rays of light seep through partially closed shutters

Washing away drowsiness and sweeping restlessness

Folding another layer of reality over remembrance and memories

***

© Sherine Meshad, 5th June 2007