10-04-2010, 09:25 AM
when waking, like an animal, upon
summer's motherly call, the day people,
who strive and connect, without asking why,
view again the glades, and tranquil lakes, I
lie in wait for winter's breath, cold and tinged
with a lecher's disdain, eager to show
me his landscapes, like an art student,
zealous but talented. and so, with grim
and mournful heart, when my time does befall,
I stumble through this dense forest, like a
painted hall; dark wing of a hospital,
each tree a door concealing pain, until
I find you here again, my companion, my
sole survivor, my one other night horse.
summer's motherly call, the day people,
who strive and connect, without asking why,
view again the glades, and tranquil lakes, I
lie in wait for winter's breath, cold and tinged
with a lecher's disdain, eager to show
me his landscapes, like an art student,
zealous but talented. and so, with grim
and mournful heart, when my time does befall,
I stumble through this dense forest, like a
painted hall; dark wing of a hospital,
each tree a door concealing pain, until
I find you here again, my companion, my
sole survivor, my one other night horse.