Thumbs up
May 6th 2008 09:41
Is it the gusting winds
ruffling hair and parting around my steed,
with sussurous promises
reminding past melodies
and smelling of salt, greens and craven need?
Is it the winding roads
stretching sinuously and lying in wait,
for my steed to grace
at steady not sedate pace
and at each bend laying more coils as bait?
What is it that makes me a fool
while making me feel
that all is well and in control
that the steed is body and my feet the wheel?
Whatever it is - whether the measured beat
matched with that of my heart,
whether the rugged engine or chromed part
it cannot be denied as a work of art.
And from without, I am told,
that the rider on the steed
is a fist cocked with thumb atop
tightly knit yet completely freed
a symbol of victory and journey non-stop.
Thumbs up!
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