November 21


It’s just me, her, and the road underneath,

She glides down asphalt like a sword into a sheath,

I press down the pedal and zip into fourth,

Top end evens out, giving way from torque.

“This is crazy,” I think – the speed, the thrill!

Like a lion on the hunt, going in for the kill.

Her nose points straight, an arrow to course,

In the dust she will leave regret and remorse.

Beyond the horizon the sun starts to fall,

Grins, pride – having answered the road’s call.

“Thanks for the fun,” as I pull her inside,

Still intoxicated from the thrill of the ride.

Copyright © 2015. All rights reserved.

Posted November 21, 2011 by Philip in category "Poetry

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