My tight buns and thighs 
Category: Writing and Poetry 

Riding my bike out over the ocean
The seat of my pants, feels the commotion
The wheels on my rims are spinning in motion
Up hills and valleys below
Forgotten paths now covered in snow
Lungs heaving forth like race horses in flight
Legs churning pedals with Hurculean might
The rhythmic breathing is spiritual in nature
The bike and my body a single nomenclature
The parks and the trails all marked on the maps
For racing or pleasure, I make my laps
My flat tummy looks really yummy
My tight buns and thighs, they tell no lies
My beguile and beguise have churned out the fries
Under the blue bay area skies
Decision to exercise tuned out to be wise