Poem: Need For Heed

Need For Heed

By Norm Olson, Nikiski

Speeding down the highway, the wind against my face

With my Honda underneath me, I raced for open space.

The throttle fully open, no faster could I fly.

Telephone polls became a blur as I went roaring by.

Then all of a sudden it happened. I sensed my end of luck.

For pulling from a side road was a loaded gravel truck!

The lights went out in Georgia when I hit that load of dirt

And the doctors wouldn’t tell me, just how badly I was hurt.

But I’m thankful to be living, though my posture is strange to see,

For I’ve got that Honda’s handlebars where my spine once used to be.

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