Started to Fly
Every morning I try to travel some red dirt roads
I always listen closely to what they have to say
Normally red dirt roads are very safe to travel
Until one morning a motorcycle started my way
My guiding voice said this may be your end
You my friend have traveled your last mile,
All of a sudden the motorcycle started to fly
As it flew over my head, all I could do is smile
poem by John McCornack
Added by Poetry Lover
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