Biker Poems/Writing |
Next |
Bike Song
On a lonesome winding byway,
parts west of nowhereville,
one lone engine wailing her siren song.
Crying for company,
singing that long tune,
with harmony from gears and chain.
Tires rolling along the asphalt,
rumbling and roaring counterpart,
they pick up the bass note, thier own sweet music.
Wind whips her leather clad rider,
the captive audience of only one,
there is no other place that rider would rather be.
Chained by the love of the ride,
harnessed by the rules of the road,
bound by friendship and the brotherhood of his kin.
Leaning into turns tight and narrow,
are to him like the gentle rocking of the seas,
easy swaying movement not unlike lover's hips in courtship.
Flowing and rolling, watching the road,
a relaxed vigilance in tune with the bike,
both watching the back of the other as a guardian spirit.
Logging thousands upon thousands,
asphalt and concrete slabbed miles,
from time immemorial, but far from immemmorable.
© 2001 Preacher
