CALLING UP GRIEF
In dead of winter
“under the night sky she mounted a mare and rode”
No one knew where she rode
On those dark and dreary nights
She always pointed to the paint
Brown and white, In the field
She always said it was hers
The one she rode under the night sky
A pretty little girl
Sheltered and protected from
All things that hurt
And yet, over time
Hurt would find her
Like a curse
Dictated by
The local witch
Her urge to ride
Could come at any time
Was not limited
To the dead of winter
She said, she was calling up grief
August 9, 2018
1 comment:
Was not limited
To the dead of winter
She said, she was calling up grief
It is sad when one conjures up bad times to happen to make life complicating. It does sometimes in moments of despair!
Hank
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