[WayzataJOHNN]

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.

[JustAmy]

Happy Friday, WayzataJOHNN.
Thank you for the poems.

We've missed you the last couple of days.
It is always good to see you.

Have a beautiful Weekend.