Last Ride

Biker gets cancer.

As I climb astride
this powerful beast,
it roars like it's hungry
and wanting to feast.

As one, we move forward,
with balance and grace.
I smile, as I breathe in
the wind on my face.

We thunder on wildly,
chasing the light.
Some people stare kindly.
Some startle with fright.

The leather feels good
and warm on my skin.
We climb up the mountain,
where air becomes thin.

The sun has now set,
and the stars start to shine.
I revel in freedom.
The whole world is mine.

I feel part of nature.
Elemental and strong.
But I found out today,
that this thought is wrong.

How can the Doctor
have such news to give?
He said that I only
have six months to live.