12/15 period B homework due 12/17 poetry analysis of "Fifteen" by William Stafford

Fifteen 
William Stafford 

        South of the Bridge on Seventeenth
        I found back of the willows one summer
        day a motorcycle with engine running
        as it lay on its side, ticking over
5      slowly in the high grass. I was fifteen.

        I admired all that pulsing gleam, the
        shiny flanks, the demure headlights
        fringed where it lay; I led it gently
        to the road and stood with that
10    companion, ready and friendly. I was fifteen.

        We could find the end of a road, meet
        the sky on out Seventeenth. I thought about
        hills, and patting the handle got back a
        confident opinion. On the bridge we indulged
15    a forward feeling, a tremble. I was fifteen.

        Thinking, back farther in the grass I found
        the owner, just coming to, where he had flipped
        over the rail. He had blood on his hand, was pale—
        I helped him walk to his machine. He ran his hand
20    over it, called me a good man, roared away.

        I stood there, fifteen.