Sunday, March 29, 2009

No, Lucinda, I don't think I am. But thanks for asking.

She rears her head as I approach
Her nostrils flared with fear
Her eyes are wide, her mane is flying
She's pinning back her ears

She stiffens and she shivers and
She wheels and lopes away
Across the unfenced sections
I won't catch that mare today

So as I roam the prairies for
A chance to try again
Behind me through the grasses drag
The braided leather reins

She's broken well, her gait is sound
She'll pack a man all day
She's cowy and her mouth is good
She'll pen your restless strays

And she won't come to me
She won't come to me

She won't come to anyone
who's frightened to be free.

1 comment:

France is said...

this. is. incredible.