Heavy
Fifteen-two hands high, half a ton
of black horse – she bore me
through dry arroyos and over alfalfa fields
in bloom. But how could I carry her
to college? There’s no place in a dorm-room
for a Morgan-Quarter mare.
I dropped her – reins and all – into
the hands of a stranger.
Forty-eight years later, I find
I’m still carrying her
in my mind.
Copyright © Taylor Graham | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment