I wrote it about how I've been feeling lately dealing with being horseless.
Horses are my greatest passion and I can't stand to be without them, but I'm forced to be for awhile so I'm left to write depressing poetry about it
(Also manip-ed this photo to serve as its title)
Saddles and bridles hang dejected in a tack room I haven't visited in way too long,
Brushes still full of the hair of horses who have galloped off to start new lives,
Helmet lies stained with the sweat of that last good ride,
Riding boots get tucked away in the back of the closet,
Soul lies low in my chest,
Restless, feeling hopeless, yearning,
Spirit swept away in the wind that broke on the chest and flew away out behind
A noble steed which once carried me proud on his back,
Now having been forced to leave me behind him.
Heart heavy and empty,
I am restless, feeling hopeless, yearning
For that soft nicker each morning when I head out to the barn, always bringing a carrot and a kiss on the nose,
He slips his head willingly into a soft, supple halter,
Proudly gleaming, his name in bold on a nameplate on the side,
He would follow me closely back into the barn and come back out saddled in that once lonely saddle, now comfortably hugging his back,
We would fly down the rail or a slow-winding trail and kick up dust in a show of dancing spirits and freedom and ecstasy,
And at the end of the day I would tuck him away with a kiss and a carrot, a pat on the neck,
My spirit renewed, a smile alight, more than happy to rest and to sleep at night.
Without horses I hang dejected in my quiet little life like the lifeless tack I haven't strode in ages,
We both sit unfulfilled, my unfortunate saddle and I, not living out our shared true purposes in life,
To live on the back of a horse.
There are horses on my television,
Horses on my computer screen,
Horses in my books and magazines,
On the walls of my room,
In the pictures I have saved,
On the lips of everyone around me,
But it only leaves me restless, hopeless, yearning,
So I head out to that familiar barn,
Met by the whinnies of horses I have always brought carrots,
Met by the people who ride them who smile at me and tell me "Long time, no see,"
And keep on trotting by atop their trusted partners who snort and kick dust at my feet,
There is no horse of my own that is waiting for me,
So they only spark jealousy,
And as I leave I recall why I haven't come by in so long,
With no horse to ride I am an outsider in a place I call home,
And I feel all that much more alone.