A ride along a winters road, a crisp feel in the air, the new white frost adorns the fields, there’s winter everywhere.
Upon the seas the vista hones, it’s white capped waves crash down, the sands stretch out, the couples walk, their dogs just jump around.
A thought of warmth placates my bones, a cup of ‘Earl Grey tea’. Alook around for hearty food, to fill the hole in me!
A warm room calls, it’s sounds of mirth, the smell of winter cheer, the seats are soft, the lights are dim, (still in me biker gear)
The China cup with gold leaf rim, the hearty bowl of soup, the home made bread all healthy stuff, (I really need to poop)
I look with smiles towards the door, a toilet begs my log, but bikers gear In wintertime, plays havoc on the bog!
This ode turns odd as quatrains pass, a little crude at times, but sitting with me Earl Grey tea, I’m finding words that rhyme!
Now soon to leave this nice warm place, my tedticals rise up, they know it’s cold upon my bike, (I’ll have another cup)!
