Category: Writers Block
He runs, ever elusive his breath like hot fire,
He rests alone on a ridge,
Grazes from wild grasses,
He is known only to himself,
A wild thing, a free spirit,
He is a mystery,
A metaphore of something else,
Sometimes disconcerting,
Simplicity not his way,
A rare thing of beauty,
His hoofs a tangle mass of nerves and steel,
His muscles rippling under tawny skin,
Who is he, this beast of wonder,
He is almost a lost breed,
Part animal part legend,
Never caught, never confined,
Though some have tried to capture him,
He can never be tamed,
For he is the stallion
A survivor of modern age,
Still someday being yesterday's child.,
I knew a stallion like that and his colt is a cracker.
Very good, thanks.
I especially like the "part animal, part legend." Oh so true.
Bob
Kauto Star
Beautifully written!