A MAN AND HIS BIKE

[Reginald.F.Horton]

A MAN AND HIS BIKE

THE WANDERLUST RUNS THROUGH HIS VEINS
HAS HE CYCLES UP AND OVER THE HILLS
AND DOWN NARROW COUNTRY LANES
ALONE OR WHEN CYCLING WITH HIS FRIENDS
ON THE PEACE AND STILLNESS OF THE
COUNTRY SIDE THEY ALL DESCEND
AT AN INN DOWN BY THE RIVER OR CANAL SIDE
THEY WATCH THE SWANS AS THEY GLIDE
ACROSS STILL WATERS WITH GRACE AND PRIDE
THEN ON THEIR WAY MERRILY THEY GO
AS THE WIND ON THEIR FACES DOES BLOW
IN SUNSHINE ,WIND AND THE RAIN
TO THEM THE WEATHERS IT’S ALL THE SAME
AS RABBITS THEY SCURRY ACROSS THEIR PATH
BRINGS A SMILE TO THEIR FACE AND A LAUGH
THERE'S NOTHING QUITE LIKE CYCLING
WHEN GETTING OFF THE BEATEN TRACK
COUNTRY SCENERY IT KEEPS CALLING THEM BACK
THEY TURN FOR HOME AT THE SETTING OF THE SUN
HIS DAY HAS BEEN LONG ,HAPPY FULL OF FUN
UNTIL THE NEXT TIME HE CHOOSES TO ROAM
FROM ALL THE COMFORTS OF HOME
SAT BY THE FIRESIDE IN HIS ARMCHAIR
SAFE AND LOVED IN THE COMPANY OF HIS
FATHER AND MOTHERS CARE

Poem by R.F.Horton