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Acres of Sunset
by Wayne Thomas (Age: 58)
copyright 08-29-2007


Age Rating: 13 to 127

 
Through the midst of Bedlam I hobble,
a tired old cob with a twisted leg,
dragging through the mud and snow,
searching for the sunset.

My eyes fully open, I watch the day fall,
ropy arms snaking slowly across the meadow.
Cold wind whistles under my blanket
and I'm ready for dinner.

I can't help but notice a group of foals in their paddock,
and their frisky antics, heads held high,
stir a bittersweet longing within me,
an anthem for lost youth.

But here I am, looking down on the icy
water of a shallow, rocky stream,
cold grass now close beneath my belly,
sweet, fragrant hay poking through melting snow.

A voice calls my name and I limber up slowly,
shaking myself off.
I plow, tired, through those acres of crimson,
and that drafty old barn is the sweetest place on earth.


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08-30-2007 Richard Reed Jr    

A splash of melancholia which moves my soul to the mysteries of life. No melodrama here, just a quiet thank you and an acceptance of what has been. I liked the way you worked in the foals
as symbols of youth. Excellent touch

Outstanding metaphors and imagery.
Outstanding poem.

Your friend,

~Rich
Visitor Reads: 163
Total Reads: 182
Comments: 1

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