( / Ashland, Kentucky)

On The Motorcycle

In the air as I flew,
I wonder if my rider then knew,
That in a few moments we would both be dead
How I wish, that I had a helmet on my head.
Everyday before we went for a ride
He wouldn't wear a hemet because of his pride,
I asked him for a helmet and he always said "No"
Now, we both have died.
He had told me that a helmet I need never to wear
So, instead I always said a prayer
He also swore to me that we would never crash
Now in a few moments, my skull will be mash.
I wonder how much pain there is in death
As I take my final breath,
Pretty soon I will be crashing into the concrete
Then my blood and I will be smeared upon the street.
I now see his body sliding upon the road
As though he was a fired torpedo,
His teeth and his blood and his shoe are now on the ground
Oh Lord, he is making such a horrible sound.
I see pieces of the motorcycle passing me by
How I wish for my partner that I could cry,
Now I see his crushed head mixed with the wrecks;
I am now next.

Randy L. McClave

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