For the Ladies
In The Gallery Of My Mind
Soft the night does cradle thee,
in peace to rest my love.
And as the hours fly away and flee,
I watch you, and dream so sweet thereof.
Your hair drifts in the evening breeze,
to lay with soft abandon on your cheek.
Such a sight that holds my breath as it does tease,
fixing an image in my mind, forever that I will seek.
Frameless art hung in the gallery of my mind,
forever on display, always there for me alone.
A one woman show, a long life to run and remind,
created by a Master’s hand, my joy to sweetly hone.
For the guys (and Gals who ride)
Rigid Roadway Blues
250 wide tire rigid steel frame,
127 C.I. Evo engine on fire.
6-speed Trans that never tires,
and howling for its bit of fame.
400 miles war on you at day’s end,
and you step off the bike, an older man.
Your back feels the miles mortal span,
and you hope again, that time will mend.
Another motel moment, echo other times,
if there’s any hot water you’ll soak away the miles.
Diner food, waitress eyes that wonder at your smile,
promising nothing, and everything, sometimes.
I hear the roadway blues singing in my mind,
coloring my dreams with time’s pallet.
I shift, and ache with the touch of age’s mallet,
the image of a soft-tail ride never far behind.