Hooves slam the concrete ground,
dust clouds sweep the oxygen off it’s feet,
and as the spirits stare into blank white skies,
I’m like a child under some blank white sheets,
“boo” my child goes,
Families of horses make one hell of a stampede.
That man’s sitting on the sidewalk holding wooden signs,
it says, “will work for money,”
and the horse holds a sign back that says, “I’m too scared.”
Will he shoot me down?
Or will he sing grace.
As a stallion, I’m destined to find out.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s