horses

when I was a young man I had horses
once was a blind appaloosa
twice was his pony
each was a token of my forgiveness
of a life spent in disregard

I read them Old Angel Midnight
and of the trifecta’s in the south
and they spoke of the hunger of the north
we laid our heads down upon the stones
and kept each other warm

now my life has turned; not graver nor grayer
but the youth, that was of my thirties
has cast its eyes to other pastures
studies that were written down
are not written in vain


4/19/2009

from of old men and of the sea
© 2009 woundedlordliterature

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