It is evening
I can tell,
the hairs on my arms
start to lift against the air,
my summer dress
not enough anymore
to keep me warm

The road is white,
cement dust
like powder, like clouds
between the scaffolding
across the sky,
My dad in his work boots
finds his way down,
the sound of the bars
like bells between sleepers
on houses not built yet
at the top of our road

He fixes the folds
on his shirt sleeves
holds the handle bars steady,
I can hear his breath
while he runs
feel his grip,
almost to the top of our road
then I hear him,
‘That’s it,
now just keep pedalling’

My heart in my mouth
I pedal faster,
like my life depends on it
His voice fading
behind me
But I can still hear him
‘you have it now
you’re doing it
you’re on your own’