Would that I had but one single witness
To the feats I accomplish in your sunlit realm
As my bike conquers mountains, with me at the helm
I fly down the flats like a Roubaix-bound Boonen
And dream I lay waste to my Pro-Tour opponents
No peak is too high, no town is too far
But then you recede like a 5 a.m. star...
How tragic! how young! how lamented you are!
Then I sit at my desk, just dreaming of spring
Oh, Late-season Fitness! You sweet, fickle thing!
~ Composed upon the boneshaker, 9/15/09
4 comments:
Really good.
Why thank you, sir!
Simply beautiful. I love Fall!
Thank you, thank you, SoC! (By the way, we'll be in touch soon.)
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