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Bike

I see her, sleek and black;

Proud machined perfection.

I imagine her power, throttling back,

Gears engaged for swift attack,

Ignoring society’s rejection.

Dark curves tempting, unsuspecting youth,

Lusting eagerly; her cold, dangerous, truth.

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Written by

paul-chafer

English

Published: Mar 5, 2014
LinesWords: 734

Notes: An old one of mine, written in 2000, dragged out of the shed as I'm writing one about *** and motorbikes, two of my favourite things, rock music goes with them both.

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