That Is The Day

That Is The Day ©


It started early,

can’t say exactly when.

Almost like a tickle,

though I knew even then,

that twist of grip and rush of wind

would always be a friend.


Exuberant youth spent

riding anything that runs.

Chasing down tree-lined valleys

to catch the setting sun.

Swapping tales of rides gone by

and dreams of rides to come.


In the summer of life,

filled with family and friends.

The road, life reflected,

full of turns, twists, and bends.

Nicer bikes, the longest rides,

thinking summer won’t end.


Then so quickly time passes,

now in the fall of my years,

I still love the wind

and the stomping of gears.

I have lived a biker’s life,

yet now I ride with one fear.


When the time comes

that I can no longer roam,

when the saddle calls

denied by failed body or bone,

that is the day, Lord,

to call me on home.

4 Responses to “That Is The Day”
  1. I hope I don’t live long enough to see the day when you can no longer ride in the saddle!

    • Brad Osborne says:

      Me too Sis! Stop getting so freaking healthy… No, hold on. I don’t mean I don’t want you to live that long. I mean I don’t want to see it either.

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