You slam the door and chance a step, from streets of stress and corners blind
To sweeping curves and focussed mind
Alive your tripped by memories past, of jagged spires of riding fast, Through lanes and hamlets, church and steeple, Past those aghast of biker people
No rhyming couplets nor a play, will dare to stop the wind today, no rain to damp or slide and spin, no weather harness on this soul within...To live a speed freaks life of sin, to ride alone and still to win
The garage door the final boundary, Seems welded shut like armored foundry,
To stop the flow of speed and shine, to hold the beast within, benign, Your steel and iron froze in time, the owner of your soul and mind
She sits…. Just quiet, stoic still….
A shell without a beating heart, bereft of life, a pile of parts, and then she starts… YES… then she starts, with keys inserted lover like, you embrace your motorbike
Twist the throttle your hand entwined, the rapture of control sublime, breath of life instils a roar, resembles screams of devils whores,
A snarl and bite with teeth like knives, lights ferocious, eyes alive
She shudders slight with snort and howl and settles down to clunk and growl
Awaiting eager, now alive, a beast she bucks, bites, spits harsh and foul
The coming back to life of metal, time in reverse a wilted petal, Resplendent, brash alive she hums, The bolts white hot, exhausts are guns, of smoking bullets fire asunder, horsepower the gold, the chest, the plunder
As you leave the garaged muddled maw, mind is melded, eyes are welded to the floor
The rhythm now the revolution, of the engine heart, your one solution
The quiet in this hail of noise, this nirvana in a tempest poised, to ride the roads and feel the peace, far from cares of fines and of police
Your free… now free, the pair of you
Tyres are warming, surefooted swarming, sticky fast as hot as tar, to hold you fast and pull you far,
The road swings as a shifting snake, with coils of corners in which to brake, each scale a second jewelled and climbing, over hill time slows, reclining...
In the sweat of heat and fire, the blood of petrol a funeral pyre
Each little death of sparks and flame, A petit mal, to push you on to ride again
The language of the road is fluent, your worries, a school from which your truant,
Thought suspended crystal clear, your mind is blank you have no fear
Your alive as miles are rising, the time is passing, so surprising, that seconds flow like hours in frame, and hours run like horses none too tame.
The gallop slows to cups of tea, a moment rested, aching knee, the stories told to him and me and all in sundry on this given Sunday
At Newlands corner rested slight, your keys back in, your bike alight, As you run pell mell to flee and flight, over borders, corners turn so tight.
The reverie of ride suspended, sure footed still, not upended
Every corner paced amazed, a tree branch clipped, a curbstone grazed
Pushed on again to other spaces, open mind and open places
Road is flying now as one, your bike, its heart, its beat its hum… the ride is closing as a play as journey ends and put away
Back in the foundry hot and pinging, like a choir of maidens singing, rest now comes for her today, as you just rode your cares away…