lined up straddling the scent of horses

bareback summers we spent all alone

our laughter falling with spring raindrops

and the back country was all of our own

ruddy roads like rusty chicken wire

our clothes carried both back to town

where the trees stood as still as soldiers

guarding barbarians bare fleshed by the door

dingy white walls to carry a coal black roof

we dare boredom to run away with us again

blissful in our shared certainty yet undefined

in backwaters where poems never rhyme

the tall hats and the daintly dressed ladies

herd together branded and domestic pigs

mocking the simple nature for its realism

but yet tussel in the pens where they feed

the rider whose horse she'll always look for

hoove prints pushed so deep in our clay

no matter the rush the race or the rambling

spirits alike ride shared roads far away