Riding together

Do you remember,

that good times,

riding my motorbike.

I remember

whether we were in the rain,

riding in the fields of yours,

in the traffic of the city,

your hands in my pocket,

one leg near the other,

to not let us fall apart.

This is one of the things,

that I most loved about us,

the silence we share,

in the roar of the road,

helping one another,

to get out of our miseries.

These were good times,

and nothing seemed strange,

of a future separated,

of a fantasy present,

may one day we recall this together,

once more,

near one another's soul.