They Shoot Horses, Don'T They
To tame a horse in freezing winter
One plays a childish "hide and seek"
Caress its mane with future spring
and kiss the hazel moist with love.
Distract its pain with sandy gallops
Along the turquoise dreams of freedom
And while you heal the reddish wound
Recount the legend of the horse with wings.
There won't be saddles only clouds
That sometimes shed rainbows of tears
As darkness falls on killing fields
My soul is neighing as echoes cry...
Copyright © Iolanda Scripca | Year Posted 2010
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