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My Last Ride

My hands are clenched around chrome bars
the engine's rumble sounds so sweet.
I twist the throttle with my palm
and roar off down the street.

The slapping of my leathers
and raging winds on either side,
drum a beat of sweet contentment
as I ride this.....my last ride.

Alone on my red bema
to the heavens I've been called,
but fret not my dear loved ones,
I’m not lonely here at ...