THE CYCLIST

 THE CYCLIST    

By Donna Penley

The west wind’s blowing in my face  It makes the going rough;
The incline’s growing steeper.  I grit my teeth.  It’s tough.
There are three guys drafting off me.  They have been for  miles.
Soon one of them will pass me.  That is just his style.
He thinks he’ll get the best of me, put me to the test,
But, that’ s okay.  I’ll draft off him, give my legs a rest.
For, riding  ain’t just muscle.  It’s a test of will and guts;
But, at my age I keep riding.  My friends think I am nuts.
I know there’s a flat ahead of us about a mile or so.  Then a heavy incline  that  will test us head to toe.
I drink water before that climb that will put me to the test,
Then I know that there’s a decline that will give my body rest.
But declines can be dangerous, that I truly know,
As I spot a pile up ahead and down below.
I skirt and skate my bike around,  my caution flag is flying;
Sorry, but glad I’m not one of them.  You know  I ain’t lying.
All the broken bones and dreams there, lying on the ground.
But, I have to think ahead.  Put the hammer down.
I feel someone coming up beside me, see him from  the corner of my eye.
It’s one of the guys who drafted on me.  Now, I gotta fly.
I stand up on my peddles, put my head down, give my all.
The finish line is up ahead, and no matter where I finish -- that
I’ll finish standing tall!


*dedicated to two men in my life who love cycling, Greg and Keith
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