Rebels Ride, Flowers Die

For Sharon, may you ride like the wind.

Harley Davidson roars her rebel soul
Blood splashed on every plastered, crumbling wall
Confederate flag curtains mask the truth
Like the bravado she showed to the world

A tattered military style cot sags
Against the dresser, battered just like her
His picture still enslaving her free spirit
I could see him entering blade shining

The yellow tape coiled like Celtic knots
A testament to the violent scene
Her body violated while she bled
Her restless soul soaring down the open road

Biker bears and flowers wait patiently
For the floods to cease and their own journey