Early startMorning frostLife given to machineMachine gains a soulGentle smoke from man and machineBoth souls warming in the darkSparks ignited in bothA love is rememberedLeg goes overClutch in, one downSlight twistAway we goFew lights, fewer carsStopped for no reasonBrows furrowedStill waitingFinally greenGrin returnsOut of the cityBehind time, let it rip Sharp corner, ease her inOne with machinePerfect lineFew miles to goGrin never stoppedSlight colour in distanceThrottle opens more Finally there, side-stand downHelmet off, slight flame ignitesSmoke from manSteam from machine Sun rising, worth the coldColours explode, darkness replaced with a glorious orange and yellowThe light dances through machineShadows form, grin widdensSun climbs, glow fades, colours of unexplored roads dance on the horizonSparks on ground, machine roars.This is why I ride.
Mazza-Smoking kills.JUST KIDDING! I love it! I have an early morning commute, and I can relate to much of what you write.Waiting, before 6am, at traffic lights set on timers - no traffic, anywhere, and there I am, sitting.I enjoy commuting with my regular riding partner, too. He only comes along when the sun is shining. At sunrise, I've got the sun on my left, and my shadow is cast along the roadside to my right. I love how much sunlight passes through the open spaces of the bike - even the flickering shadow reveals its vintage nature.I'm sure I look ridiculous, too tall and skinny, sitting upright, dressed in shiny yellow - but my shadow always looks cool... More, please!!!
Mr Mazz you paint a beautiful picture with words, but at least Scotty rhymes. I thought all poetry started with "There once was a man..." Here, I'll startThere once was a man born to ride.He dressed himself all in cowhide.He said to his wifeTime to live my own lifeHe rode off while she stood thereAnd sighed
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