Getting Older
You may think I've been idle
But my hand's still on the bridle
Of this old tired bay
As I lead him this way
Where once, hoofs were beating
I find, sounds of them retreating
Well into the night
As the whole herd takes flight
Soon, the range will be silent
As it's clearly lacking clients
And I hear the grass grow
Beneath my feet, as they go
Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2014
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