After Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see
A ride as lovely as an orange Harley.
A ride whose shine is brilliant chrome,
makes one want to wander and roam.
A ride whose seat is tangerine leather,
inviting adventure and soft as a feather.
A ride when parked in the light of sun-setting,
Inspires a tomorrow of trouble-forgetting.
Poems are made by fools like me,
but only God can make a bright orange Harley.

©annie fahy, 2017