The horses at dawn: with thrown heels
whinny and buck all the while the sun
displays a red sky morning- its angry splendor
swallows my image- a ghost like grey nimbus.
Rays of red, yellow, orange like stabbing lances
a hurt so bright, I shut my eyes and
prepare for the crack of thunder
those sharp hooves pounding fiercely.
I am fighting a losing battle against
my warring heart, I can’t breathe.
Copyright © 2010 L.Warren
(All Work is Copyrighted)
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