Helmets flashing,
Shielded, faceless
Urban warriors,
Roaring at full throttle
Steel steed welded to flesh,
A Centaur and his rider
Speed by.
Bent into the wind
Arms wrapping his waist,
The waif leans in, clasped to his back
Melting into the ride
of one fluid motion…
Red light.
Shift. Idle stillness. Trickle of time.
Small hands sweep his arms,
Flutter to his back,
Smooth the wrinkled shirt,
Then rest on his shoulders.
His hand reaches for hers,
Thumb kissing knuckles softly…
Green light.
Moving on
To ride the wind,
Arms return to waist
Breasts to back
Thighs to hips.
Angel, cloak and shield
Waif and centaur
Roar on into the sunrise.
unbuttoned or undone 
I have not ridden in more then 2 months b/c of deep snow and a few upgrades to the bike. Wow do I miss riding and your poem has brought me a huge smile. Let the ride continue.
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I am glad it made you smile. Welcome to my blog.
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Absolutely wonderful, Emm…., a love story on wheels ! Really liked the “red light/green light” scenarios.
Paul
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Thank you Paul. There was something very tender there; the way he stroke her knuckles just had me undone. I am glad you liked it.
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Sensual. Born to be Wild
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Yes. Coulda, woulda, shoulda. Smile
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We all have those
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I got on the backside of a motorcycle once. I repeat once. I was terrified. My bottomside was sore. Then once I went jeep riding over wild terrain. Same result.
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Laughing. I loved riding bikes when I was younger. Here on twisty mountain roads, bike riders really hug the curves.
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And curves hug the bikers, too…
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They do!
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