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RIDING FREE
Upon the bike free as a bird,
Soaring through the wind,
The passing colour of country side,
Beauty always seen.
A flying bird of freedom,
Without worry or life’s care,
Of problems in a mixed up world,
And my own love affairs.
A real free life of spoken dreams,
As memories flicker by,
Pastures green future seen,
As tarmac pass me by.
And feeling good along the road,
Is quite a peaceful bliss,
And wondrous things could never be,
As great a thing as this.
So riding free for me won’t wait,
For more than just a day,
And when I’ve gone and left this world
I’ll be free riding in the sky.
By B Kingsford Copy Write 2,002
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RIDING FREE
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