For those in colder climes
Winter Lament
Farmer-tans are fading;
fresh sweat stains the floor.
DVDs are blaring;
riding is no more.
Minds drift further than the snow,
on cherished roads and mountain trails.
Hearts pound loud from rapid strokes,
that keep the muscles hard as nails.
We train with purpose born of need
to once more lead a pack uphill
and pedal hard to get nowhere,
focused on that future thrill.
We know that soon a day will break,
warm and filled with fresh clean air.
We'll hit the road, feel the wind once more,
and speed away without a care.
Farmer-tans are fading;
fresh sweat stains the floor.
Winter storms are raging;
riding is no more.