The Girl With a Purple Bike and a Basket Full of Stars

The wind whispered time through the trees, as she pedaled through the breeze.

Against the wind, huffing and puffing.

Or gleefully gliding-- sailing and flailing her heart wide open.

She cycled with smiles and smirks as her stars soared out of her basket.
The girl with a purple bike and a basket full of stars pedaled all throughout her universe leaving stars of conviction and courage wherever she rode.

She pedaled to the schoolyard 
and left stars on the swings for the little girls wanting to run wild and free.
She pedaled past the courts and floated stars towards the little girls with skinned knees and competition in their eyes, who just want to play.

She pedaled to the dance studio and left stars on the mirrors for the little girls wanting to soar.

She pedaled to the lake and left stars on the waves for all the little girls wanting to create their own ripples with their words and thoughts.

She pedaled, loud and proud, to city hall and left stars on the marble ceiling for all the little girls wanting to be heard.

And as she pedaled the breadth and depth of time and space, little girls far and wide noticed that starlight was all she gave, bestowing spirit and spunk with each sparkle.

The girl with the purple bike and a basket full of stars stood with a purple sash as she watched her sisters vote,

And noticing how beautiful it was to have a voice heard,

She rode through the marble buildings and sprinkled twinkles afloat.

The girl with the purple bike and a basket full of stars watched as one refusal to sit, sparked stars of their own she had to admit.

She rode through the streets with gumption and grace--and she found her stars multiplied quite a great bit.

The girl with the purple bike and basket full of stars wrote words of revolution,

with the clickity-clack of a type-writer, her stars became solution

to an old constitution.

She rode with tenacity and turned heads with beauty, but never forgot the strength of her stars or her duty.

And if ever the girl with the purple bike and a basket full of stars was ever to find her basket bare,

there was no need to fret with despair.

For when distraught and downcast,

she recounted all those who glimmered, gleamed, glitzed, and glowed because of her stars from the past.

And one by one, they would come back to her basket.

So as the wind whispers time through the trees, we can catch the sparkle from the breeze,

and find that each one of us has our own basket

and each one of us must gleam and glow

with ALL our hearts and ALL that we know.