Bessie
My comrade -
was
a candy apple red steed.
I would admire
the way the sun
would catch and sparkle
across her bars,
marvel over
the grand Ferris wheel
in proportion
to her two small children.
Some days
we would don
the sound
of my sea foam flip flops,
galloping,
I would let
the rough cement
guide us
as
I rode
on,
a mad train west.
Copyright © Jennifer Brooks | Year Posted 2005
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