Waiting
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He would enter the corral in the thick veil of mist,
up long before daylight, fog christened the air
The skies would be coral, and the sun glazed the crest
Dust shrouded the heels of his old leather boots,
and gathered in clouds around the hoofs of the mare.
Born with the morning was a whirlwind of grief
that had followed the storms of a night without sleep
Endless were hours , without refuge's peace
while he waited for sun to arrive and repeat
Caressing the flank of her sleek narrow, frame,
his favorite mare, Queenie, was the color of dawn
He would gather her reins, for a moment of calm
then, bury his face in her rusty brown mane
He'd watch as the light slipped over the hills,
smoothing the shadows, that haunted his world
Without ever knowing the worries we found
as we saw those same shadows, splay rapidly down,
drowning his eyes, with dark circles and frowns
Grief and the love of his horses, would ride,
together, off center....wherever, to hide,
and soften the hours, that waited for night
For the house was a shell, and the bedroom, upstairs,
became the forbidden, without her to share
The nights, ever long, were just waiting to tear
open the wounds that he couldn't bear
Up at the sunrise, and out until starlight
Where shadows grew stronger, and nights even longer
Burning the daylight, until light was in ashes,
then thrashing the midnight, with the darkness of mourning,
wading through dust-clouds, to see morning's light
Waiting for something to make it alright
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Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2015
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