The Captain, site manager, has demanded a story,
I have been there, all simple, not a glimpse of glory.

There was a beautiful woman “I am shy,” “I will die,”
But your story will be boring on bicycles, temples, and fields of rye.

In the mountains, to the monastery, off the beaten track,
Meditating on the significant 50 and trying to look back.

The murmur of the bike opened all doors and hearts. It seems so queer,
There was one buffalo who tried to make a kill, but that was from pure fear.

So we are now in line nine,
Of a journey that was not at all mine,

Whispering hours through forests and Thai hills that was my gamble,
The reward – smiles, friendship and monk hugs in the meditating temple.

I have been there, all simple, Lots of sweat and not a glimpse of glory.
All was inside, lost, and dispersed into the winds. This is the entire story.