Motorbike

I ride away through the breeze, my motorbike rattles the keys.
My motorbike is as fast as a plane. It’s that fast it can pass a train.
My motorbike is as red as the sun on a scorching hot day. It’s that red it can’t fade away.
My motorbike roars as loud as a lion. When my parents call me in they have to use a siren.
My motorbike is long and not very wide. But it’s good enough for me to ride.
My motorbike is silver and red. It got that way from staying in the shed.
My motorbike is an awesome thing. I like to call it the motorbike king.