Those hours, spent gently wheeling under
skies, all powder blue and cotton white
have no need of drama or of thunder
as our two hearts skip hills, dales and light.
The lane is never lonesome when you’re near
never potholed, never rough and always sweet
The birds sing lovesongs when we ride
along country road, seaside prom and city street
Was carbon ever called to nobler cause,
a saddle ever graced by curves as neat,
or spokes so grateful of Newton’s laws,
or pedals turned by happier feet?
Your sleek frame and soft smile my strength
Your fond glance and crystal laugh my joy
There is no path, no course, no length
I’ll not travel if you’ll let me be your boy
skies, all powder blue and cotton white
have no need of drama or of thunder
as our two hearts skip hills, dales and light.
The lane is never lonesome when you’re near
never potholed, never rough and always sweet
The birds sing lovesongs when we ride
along country road, seaside prom and city street
Was carbon ever called to nobler cause,
a saddle ever graced by curves as neat,
or spokes so grateful of Newton’s laws,
or pedals turned by happier feet?
Your sleek frame and soft smile my strength
Your fond glance and crystal laugh my joy
There is no path, no course, no length
I’ll not travel if you’ll let me be your boy
