The head of the Gupta family bought me ,
At a very cheap rate
and I came to the family of Bourgeoisie ,
where they kept me beside the gate.

Mr.Gupta rode me everyday ,
From his home to workplace
and stationed me inside a bay
not amongst others, but in free space.

I would enjoy throughout inside the bay ,
gossiping and giggling with my friends
Till Mr.Gupta came at the stroke of day
and drove me back, murmuring to me about the changing trends.

They loved me a lot,
cleaning and sqeegeeing me everyday,
making me look the same when I was brought
I, in turn, never gave way.

One day suddenly Mr.Gupta died,
vamoosing us in dismay.
I cried and cried and cried,
while the generation progressed day by day.

Seventy years passed, I grew older now.
The owner kept me in the storeroom
as there was nothing more for me to show
I know time has come for me to doom.

I always thanked Mr. And Mrs. Gupta for ushering me,
as I was showered such love and care by the couple.
I lamented , viewing my death near
for the old bicycle got replaced by a new vehicle.

------- Supro

Before going any further , I ask my fellow readers to get the point that here , "me" or "I" refers to the bicycle. The bicycle is being personified.
The poem explains the life of an ordinary bicycle through the changing generations and how from being a top priority , it is now thrown away and replaced by a new item.
Hope you liked the poem. A vote will clear this fact.
Thank you.