silhouette on golden hay,
No more the raging tempest he
Struck down by what must surely be.
Old age had grabbed the thorny beast
set upon having a feast,
In only a short time it took
for him to find what long he shook.
What's left me now you've lit my dreams?
The hollow mimic of your screams?
Your pounding hoof steps in my mind?
Oh, how time is so unkind!
Even as the wind doth blow
your body now some life does show,
Could it be my eyes deceive
what facts are left me to believe?
Perhaps it is not death, but sleep
for which these eyes of mine do weep.
In disbelief I ask you why
when but a moment from the sky
The sun its many colors brings,
my heart but to this notion clings.
How tenderly fall the drops of rain
A maelstrom once they thought to feign.
Now like my tears that bitter flow
they are spent in the swill below.
The wind has stopped its frightful howl
lightning fingers, their thirsty prowl.
We are left as we began
making with it what we can.
Having gained from your existence
A peace of time long in resistance
The quiet soul exploded
the heart unloaded;
Proud, Free, footsteps yet untaken
The earth waits ~ still, unshaken.
You, proud stallion,this I hope
across green pastures you now lope
oblivious to all our strife,
gone forever from this life,
For like the wind you wander free
to the envy of especially me.
©1989 Riva Joi Smith