Crashing Through


I'm flying over the hillside,
With the speedometer burning up fast
And the wind racing through my hair,
The girdle of tyres embracing the air
for a split second,
Fingertips on the wheel,
Screaming for more,
Bends and traction
Descents and grace,
The leaves crunching
under the weight of the metal,
The white lines disappearing from view.

Into fifth gear we roar,
The grunt of the engine propelling the take-off,
Pushing for something more,
Spectacle spectacular
In a blaze of splash
As the nose diving Swan is executed,
Crashing into the clay at the bottom.




Poetry by Caila Ihle
Read 772 times
Written on 2006-09-08 at 12:14

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