The White Horse

I do not mourn any love that was
Only the one that never was
My heart has not been betrayed
Except by disappointment
Because I knew what love could be

It walked down country lanes
swinging a picnic basket, and engaged
in joyous conversation
that lingered on the chilly air as mist
It painted dream-like images of its beloved, draped in gauze and cradling a lute to her breast
It dressed up in silly hats
And laughed with her by day
Feasted on risotto and bosc pears
And danced with her by night

It only wore one cotton batik dress and was still worshipped by him
It held his hand on every walk and errand
until the day blood bloomed behind his eye
He died

Even after death, it visited
in the form of a horse of white
And when she died, it came
to claim
her soul again

What I fear is not the loss of love
But that even the horse, the ghost of it will never come

Comments

  • Teddi Sunday, 23 January 2011

    too true. amen

    too true. amen

  • Anonymous Wednesday, 19 January 2011

    This one is transcendent. Time is always happening...

    This one is transcendent.Time is always happening at every moment, including what's past.

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