
To Ride a White Horse
Winter paints her gleam on fence, post, and blade of grass
Wind bites chaffed skin as weary feet plod deep snow
Hand reaches for chiseled head beautiful nostrils flaring
Velvet reaches to caress my hand
Mane long and wild in silver strands
Eye soft and round trusting, always trusting
My palm rests between her eyes and something
Intangible, wild, and beautiful rushes through me
Oh to ride the white horse, lifting, surging
Hot breath visible in the morning chill
To feel the incredible power of creature half wild
Who has given herself to me
~E.G.
You have quite a talent... nice job EG!
ReplyDeleteJust seriously missing my girl. And that electrifying feeling? I did indeed get a rush up my arm every time I placed my palm in the center of her forehead. I felt so connected to her...loved my Puddin' girl.
ReplyDelete