The Last Ride
Thursday, July 23, 2009
The road has been long, the only
sounds heard are that of my bike.
Back roads of dust, city lights in
Darkness all around, from where
I rode last.
Saddle bag gypsy, foot to the petal
traveling highways, short cuts through
A life of freedom, a roamer to some.
A saddle bag gypsy, and still on the
My Harley and I and the great big
Haven't stopped for a second, just
continue to ride.
Sunset is setting, I pull off the road
climbed off my Harley, that was the last
ride I rode.
I stood by the guardrails, watched as
the sun was setting low.
My hat in my hand I walked off real
Into the sunset I scuffled, leaving my
Walked off with my memories, never
looked back, as saddle bag gypsy
was a thing of the past.
by: paula strasburg