The rain, when it came, quenched not the fire
In her eyes which warmly glowed with love
For her noble steed, fearless but gentle;
His grace gleamed like the heavens above.
He understood her and she him
Whenever they sheltered beneath a tree
Or ventured off-track on his or her whim,
Nothing else mattered: being together and free.
We met when they were together no more.
My love for her deep then opened a sore.
She cast me adrift, but who can you blame-
To her I was mean, two-legged, a bore?
I miss absolutely everything about my old flame
But fail to recall that horse by its name.
Oh why is my memory so often unkind?
When so much that defines who she became
Is written by fire, forever branded in mind.
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This compilation by: Greg Bowering © copyright 1996-2003 with thanks to many sources and contributors. 2003.04.20 |
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