Goldfinch60

Speed.

They race down the road

On their steed made of steel,

Straight through their hair

The wind they do feel.

 

Going faster and faster

On the road from their past,

Flying further away

From that which had passed.

 

Into the future of their new life,

Speeding away on their mighty bike,

Going quickly to their wherever,

To their wherever, wherever they like.