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Thursday, December 22, 2011


Rocking Horse

Leather, cool and cracked.
It is not the first, but the last;
Time has escaped us once again.

Saddle resting upon her back,
44 inches of courage that I lack.
Fasten, tighten, pull.

Frosted plastic in my hand;
Her mouth – wrinkles like valleys span,
Crafted to a face, shaped around an eye.

Dust escapes before boots and hooves,
Foot in stirrup, in walk, in trot she moves -
One, two, one two, one two

In placid eyes tears roll back and forth
On my flawless rocking horse;
Canter – one two three one two three

To dismount is to give up, to fail;
Instead sweet sweat and dust with each inhale.
But we cannot be one forever

One two three four one two three four,
I dream of her steps six years before.
But now she moves away, not towards.

I have grown too big to even try
To mount once more to say goodbye
Silly that over this plastic that I cry?

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