I just remembered it was around this time last year when I visited the Picos de Europa on my Spanish mountainbiking trip. I thought I'd publish the poem that I wrote at the time for a lady I met on that trip. For Lisa.
Her Orange Steed
Her Orange steed
her trusty breed
for breaking every hill.
Her athlete's legs
soon cut to shreds
would push and push until....
her slender frame
would stake the claim
then time was there to kill.
Her Orange steed
her trusty breed
carrying her from the start.
For mile on mile
her charming smile
designed to lift my heart.
I couldn't sleep thinking about you. I rose at 5 and wrote these words. I hoped I had remembered which room was your's and I slipped the note under your door. We met at breakfast with the others and you let nothing slip, not even a knowing look. I thought I had the wrong room. We walked our bikes to the cable car at Fuente De and you said "That was from you wasn't it? Very sweet". We got aboard the cable car and had one of the most memorable day's biking I ever had.
Her Orange steed
her trusty breed
for breaking every hill.
Her athlete's legs
soon cut to shreds
would push and push until....
her slender frame
would stake the claim
then time was there to kill.
Her Orange steed
her trusty breed
carrying her from the start.
For mile on mile
her charming smile
designed to lift my heart.
I couldn't sleep thinking about you. I rose at 5 and wrote these words. I hoped I had remembered which room was your's and I slipped the note under your door. We met at breakfast with the others and you let nothing slip, not even a knowing look. I thought I had the wrong room. We walked our bikes to the cable car at Fuente De and you said "That was from you wasn't it? Very sweet". We got aboard the cable car and had one of the most memorable day's biking I ever had.
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