Aged to be Wild

Thought the matter departed, the mind's not erased.

I still ache to feel one ride's wind in my face.

I would bleed to lean into another turn banked.

I would burn to light fires, to blow through a whole tank.

Injury is no object. I'd endure any pain

To ride through at speed in between two clogged lanes.

For my footpegs I'm longing; for my handgrips I pine.

For them, I'd do all but wait any more time.