Up and down and round about
over the hilltops and through the clouds
over and under every which way
the galloping horses are coming to play
their mouths drip blood and under their hooves bones crush
but who cares when their fur has been newly brushed?
they’re soft to the touch until their wings unfurl
and only then do you realize you’re in peril
for they’ll chase you over hilltops and clouds
until you can no longer run about
and it’s then that you notice their smiles
for they’re happy that you’ve run for miles
they haven’t had a good chase in a bit
and you’ll have no qualms if they just let you sit
so they curl up at your feet more like canines than equestrians
falling asleep as though you’re best friends
YOU ARE READING
Hush Child
PoetryI think this will end up being a collection of poems, not gushy stuff either, but poems.
