Once her thunder Cracked the dawn. Her pipes now cold Her life is gone. No roads to conquer, No horizons to chase. She sits dust covered In this lonely place. He polished her daily, Bought her all the chrome. Rode her everywhere The road their home. He had two loves Her and his wife. Together the three Celebrated life. Rolling out early With the first sun. They would do 400 miles Before their day was done. To the north, the south To the east, the west. Ride down the valley And up the hill’s crest. Stop when they saw Something rare Take a picture Later to share. Sweep through curves Rumble through towns. Their joy and pleasure Never knew bounds. The news was not good. That came that day. He was to be taken And all should pray. Pray for time Pray for a cure Pray to accept What was coming for sure. She went to the shed She never knew why. The wife who took her Could only cry. Standing idle, forgotten Alone in the shed. Her saddle empty Her rider is dead. She is now committed To fall to rust. He who rode her Has returned to dust. Slowly she felt Her tires go flat. Her only visitor Was a moth eaten old cat. Steadfast and faithful She accepted her due. She was old and dusty Far past brand new. One bright afternoon Voices were about “It’s in the shed Gran? Can I please bring it out?” “I’ll be careful Mom I’ll treat her with care. I’ll ride safely I’ll respect your prayer” Light broke across Her front fender Anxious young hands Touched her so tender. Out of the shed Out in the light A clear faced young man Drank in the sight. He saw roads to conquer Horizons to chase. He straddled her saddle Finding his place. Polished once more Everything right Her chrome sparkling She’s a beautiful sight Once again her thunder Cracks the dawn. Her pipes again throb with joy As they sing their song.