MTB Poetry Dead Ringer by James Murren15 December 2015 Comments 0 down, down, down we go only to climb back up, up, up after spinning a few hours on the desert floor hit the cow bell as you pass by clankety clank drone sounds not far dies fast in the dry air Click to email a link to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Like this:Like Loading... 0 comments on “Dead Ringer” Leave a Reply Cancel reply Post navigation Previous Post Next Post
0 comments on “Dead Ringer”