'Twas the week before the night before Christmas...

'Twas a week before Christmas, in the heart of the town,
The cold streets buzzed with bikers, all riding around.
Their coats were snug against the wind's cold blow,
Guiding their way through the morning's soft glow.

The Espresso Express, a ride smooth and slow,
Rolled with friends in a long, easy flow.
Through windy streets where the city awoke,
Laughter and chatter were carried like smoke.

The bunch stuck together, no need for a race,
Just bikes and friendship, a casual-paced grace.
They rode to the corner where Homebody stood,
A yoga oasis, serene and so good.

Shoes were unclipped, bikes locked by the door,
They stepped off the street to the studio's floor.
Here, bodies found rhythm, a flowing release,
A breath-driven motion that brought them deep peace.

From warrior to chair pose, through flows they would glide,
Breath like a river, connected inside.
The morning sun filtered through windows so wide,
As time slowed down and the world felt aligned.

Refreshed and renewed, they stepped out once more,
For Boulted Bread, come from right next door!
The air filled with scents of pastries baked so sweet,
And coffee that promised the perfect warm treat.

Hot mugs were lifted, dark, rich, and divine,
With buttery croissants, flaky and fine.
The chatter continued, with smiles and delight,
A morning well-spent in company just right.

So if you see them, those riders in flight,
Rolling through streets in the soft morning light,
Give a nod to the bikers, their journey complete—
Merry riding, calm flowing, and coffee to treat!