Almost a Biker

I once had a motorbike,
Painted in the colours I like.
Bright paintwork in yellow and black,
Better for road than for track.
A custom bike with plenty of chrome,
Visions I had of going to roam.
Out on the open road once more,
A beautiful thing with a throaty roar!
I got all the kit and dressed in the leather,
Protected from every kind of weather.
Wearing all of the outfit he loves,
Jacket, Boots, Helmet and Gloves.
Blood racing through me thudding my chest,
Excitement builds I’ll be joining the rest.
On Saturday mornings, coffee en-route
Someone you know, give them a toot.
Bike training then was even a pleasure,
Into the country, moments to treasure.
Taking in the air as you go by,
Feeling as though being able to fly.
Out on the road from my worries I’d hide,
Forget them all as you begin to ride
For a time so easy to be,
Someone else who’s so carefree.
Once I’d got my ticket you know,
I sat on the bike ready to go.
I started up and the throttle jammed,
Into a wall on the bike I slammed.
I’d hurt myself and damaged by back.
And from the experience I would lack.
Suddenly my dreams as a biker no more,
As I was pinned upon the floor.
Couldn’t get from under the bike you see,
Was trapped just too darn heavy for me.
Rescued by a helpful friend,
For the bike and I, the end.
6 months of pain and physio,
Off to the doctor I had to go.
The bike was stored, then fixed and sent,
For someone new it was now meant.
My injuries healed, they did not last,
But having a bike’s all in my past.

The Atmosphere of the Ballet

The other day I spent a wonderful afternoon watching the Ballet with some of my family.  I must admit that my enjoyment of it was made even better, by an elderly lady who sat alongside us with her daughter.  She made me smile as she hummed along to all the music and later commented after a particularly lengthy dance with just two of the dancers, that “they were nice, now on to the next ones” followed by “Oh dear, they are back again“ when they returned to the stage for the next dance.  She had the same sort of deadpan way with words as my dear friend and late Mother in Law. A wonderful Lady who was with me in spirit on the first Mothering Sunday we have spent without her.  But it made me feel close to her for a moment and relive some of my memories of her, albeit vicariously.

Atmosphere of the Ballet

The costumes, the backdrops, the music starts

Senses are heightened it plays on the heart.

The Orchestra seated, they play in time.

Dancers jostle to form the line.

The stages prepared and subtly lit

Ushered into our row, we sit.

To be enraptured and enthralled

Until the interval is called.

A lovesick daughter, or a Faerie Queen.

It doesn’t matter if it’s one you’ve seen.

My favourite ones are nymphs and faerie,

That Evil one is far to scary!

Discussing the storyline once more

As the actors assemble at the door.

To await the time they’re at their leisure

The performance given for your pleasure.