The Rhyme of the Ancient Biker

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His flowing silver mane framed a weathered face
The mantle of the seasoned biker and his halo of grace
A beard in hues of grizzled grey
Canvassed a portrait painted that way

His leathers all faded, scuffed and worn
Crafted the image that greeted the morn
Shrouded in vestments of the code
He made ready for the open road

With gloves and helmet underarm
He drifted to the chapel of his charm
The door rolled back and what a sight
Aura'd in awe and splendid might

There in raiments of red and gold
Noble in stature and written in bold
Beckoned with lust and tempting guile
A two wheeled wonder sculptured in style

Gifted with majesty and Indian by name
Summoned an icon of historic fame
A thundering big twin to steal the soul
Throbbing with power and passion to roll

The old man with glint and wrinkled grin
Preened his beloved and primed her for a spin
He scanned its form and awesome glory
While adding another chapter to the story

It growled like a tiger with one swift kick
A twist of the throttle had lighted the wick
He dropped the clutch and let her run
Taking off for adventure and the setting sun

Heading for a distant vista making for the grail
The rhythm of the black top caressed a saintly tale
It was poetry in motion to see him ride that day
A pilgrim on a mission and all that comes what may

Eighty cubic inches hummed a melody divine
Music to his ears while riding for the line
Treking through the hinterland among the fields of green
Paradise scrolled its beauty and decorated the scene

Nirvana lit its lustre and the siren call did sing
Giving smile to the spirit of a biker on the wing
Basking in the moment of a ride so heaven-sent
Gunning for the far horizon 'til the day be spent

The pace be brisk while sweepers teased the dream
Where shadows dappled and danced a waltz supreme
The ballad of the odyssey is lyric to this tome
For when the script be writ, he turned the beast for home

The run be done and the bike at rest
'Twas a day like all the others to be the best
There the front verandah welcomed as on cue
And bade the weary biker to take a tranquil pew

The sun was sinking o'er the land
Thoughts of the ride and senses so grand
To reach for the sunset all fanciful and free
Is the opus and the anthem for him and for me

Wayne F. Pappin, #24386.

V-Sport

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