Jerry T Curtis Poet Rhyme

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

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