Manoevering quickly, they ride with the wind
Confronting the challenge and trying again.
They laugh at the obstacles, lean on each other,
Hating their old man, loving their mother.

The night air gets chilly; they ride to the north,
And I to my living room, words pouring forth.
There's a lump in my throat, and I cease to be me,
For a vacuum exists where my spirit should be.