The tune of the pipes
Calling your name
As the bike warms up
And awaits your arrival
Weaving and swaying
Through the concrete jungle
Dodging and ducking
Traffic lights and cars
Pollution drives us
Out of the city
Cleanse our faces with the salt
From the sea
As we rumble past
The roaring ocean
You and I
Melting together
Racing along the
Foothills of the mountain
Washing out our lungs
With farm fresh air
The tune of the exhausted pipes
The angelic manurers of the bike
Are romancing the mountain
As the bike becomes alive
And protect us like a lover
The overspray of the waterfall is
Washing the city out of or hair
Replacing the oxygen in the
Paws of our skin
Exciting our sensors
Wetting our appetite
Launching out of the forest
Racing along the plain
Travelling faster than light
Floating into space
The Engine running on galaxy gas
The tyres run on star dust
Our journey never ends
And quit frankly my dear
With you by my side
And a highly polished bike
I never want this journey to end
Categories:
manurers, imagination, poetry,
Form: Prose