night horse

[MarkusSinclair]

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.

I enjoyed your poem but the lack of a clear meter threw off my reading of it. Try iambic on either this one or the next one though I appreciated the attempt at it in the pentameter structure