Homework April '23. To Peter.
Posted: Fri Apr 21, 2023 7:11 pm
TO PETER.
© Ron Boughton April ‘23
You’ve gone old mate, and there’s times I wonder, if was in dreams
The never ending miles we shared, surreal at times it seems,
Those magic motorbike trips now filed, in the treasured years,
When we had ridden over this land …in horizon gears.
We’d shared a lot of common threads with no words ever spoke
In anger, that is unless, was in pretext of a joke!
And here your larrikin trademark grin, settled any score
And was at times beneath your visor …a safe bet for sure!
Remember Pete, about six of us, shared the wanderlust
And you, were first to buy the beers to wash away the dust
When booking into country pubs, after a hot, hard day’s ride
No matter whether far out west or on the Great divide!
So many happy memories mate are coming thick and fast
As too I ponder the humour in those rides of the past!
The times we’d all been guilty, snoring like sawmills cutting logs!
And laugh we did at White Cliffs, when they called our mob …Wild Hogs!
Your nickname of the Vegemite kid was one that you would boast,
Because you’d trowel it on so thick you’d hardly see the toast!
And all those characters that are, the essence of our land,
Of whom we met along the track …was education grand!
We rode in dust and heat, and rain, and wind and driving sleet,
But in the halcyon days of sunshine, nothing could compete,
With being graced in freedoms shroud where senses could immerse
In nothing but appreciation, of this land diverse!
The good times rolled onwards as did the turning two wheel spokes
‘Til father time hinted that we were no longer young blokes!
As those past pains and ailments, that, of once we’d never hear
Were coming to the fore, and sadly, yours were most severe!
And sadly so aggressive, though you put up a good fight
Until that last tragic fall at home, on that fateful night!
And until the day we meet again, in that faraway,
You will always be missed Pete …our true mate of yesterday!
© Ron Boughton April ‘23
You’ve gone old mate, and there’s times I wonder, if was in dreams
The never ending miles we shared, surreal at times it seems,
Those magic motorbike trips now filed, in the treasured years,
When we had ridden over this land …in horizon gears.
We’d shared a lot of common threads with no words ever spoke
In anger, that is unless, was in pretext of a joke!
And here your larrikin trademark grin, settled any score
And was at times beneath your visor …a safe bet for sure!
Remember Pete, about six of us, shared the wanderlust
And you, were first to buy the beers to wash away the dust
When booking into country pubs, after a hot, hard day’s ride
No matter whether far out west or on the Great divide!
So many happy memories mate are coming thick and fast
As too I ponder the humour in those rides of the past!
The times we’d all been guilty, snoring like sawmills cutting logs!
And laugh we did at White Cliffs, when they called our mob …Wild Hogs!
Your nickname of the Vegemite kid was one that you would boast,
Because you’d trowel it on so thick you’d hardly see the toast!
And all those characters that are, the essence of our land,
Of whom we met along the track …was education grand!
We rode in dust and heat, and rain, and wind and driving sleet,
But in the halcyon days of sunshine, nothing could compete,
With being graced in freedoms shroud where senses could immerse
In nothing but appreciation, of this land diverse!
The good times rolled onwards as did the turning two wheel spokes
‘Til father time hinted that we were no longer young blokes!
As those past pains and ailments, that, of once we’d never hear
Were coming to the fore, and sadly, yours were most severe!
And sadly so aggressive, though you put up a good fight
Until that last tragic fall at home, on that fateful night!
And until the day we meet again, in that faraway,
You will always be missed Pete …our true mate of yesterday!
