As I bundle up,
the keys in my hand,
I straddle my steel horse,
No rein's to grab,
Just bars in my hands,
No saddle to sit,
Just a seat, leather-ed black,
I start the engine,
feel the thunderous roar,
I put my foot on the brake,
kick the ole girl into gear,
As I release the clutch,
and my ride is so near,
I begin to move forward,
the wind in my face,
I can't help but think,
to all the one's, who's so deprived,
no Air Therapy for them,
a loss of freedom inside,
So ride as much as you can,
that is the measure of true freedom,
hitting the open road,
riding your steel horse,
Fore if you forsake,
a loss of freedom you take,
when you fail to make,
time for the 'The Ride'!
Sometimes, I feel like that too. The steel horse is really a source of tremendous freedom. It allows us to move freely anywhere we want, far or near. Too often we condemn traffic and fail to enjoy the wonder of the steel horse. Very nice poem, Richard
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
'To all the one's, who's so deprived, no Air Therapy for them, a loss of freedom within' RAB