Motorcyle Poem by Ragy Sandid

The soul on a thin line
Speeding to a final destination
It's fine and refined
Every breath an exhilaration

Above the hemisphere
Helmets, gadgets and gangs
Black to orange mean dread is near
Suave Solo jaguar or packs with fangs
The hemisphere that's below
The poor man's indispensability
Mobility and agility ready to go
A tool of responsibility

Joined, it's fast as a single breath
It makes look easy and carefree
Some roar their motors defying death
And some start it to be free

One line, one road, one mistake
A life on the line everyday
Those who carry it for trophy's sake
And some keep it for a rainy day.