FORLORN RAIN


There she sat forlorn in the rain, I could feel her Pain
The years had not been good
Easy to see the strain, to many things in vain
Others tried but no one could

So I took her home, to write another tome
I spoke to her, to myself, the wall
I gave up my shirt, to clean the dirt
My head held high, while I weathered the squall

Lots of nightly strife, I thought of a wife
Who surely was pissed
By time past, How long could it last
Still down deep feelings resist

One night she was O.K., I could feel she'd stay
I drank a beer from my favorite stein
I moved cleverly slow, no reason to show
Things felt much to fine.

The next sunny morn, found me asleep quite forlorn
A hand still upon her rear
A wife now has seen, “where the hell you been?”
Groggy from ale and sweating fear

I stagger to my feet, blurt “I'd like ya to meet!
The passion of my months gone by”
There's a tear in her eye, as she starts to cry
It's nothing if not ever so sly

For last night I finished her right
An was so tired I slept
She's not really a bike, but a 45 trike
the kind any Biker would have kept

She's named “Forlorn Rain”