In a dark stall he stands waiting
Underneath this moonlit morn,
  Seventeen some hands to the withers.
 In a  coat black as coal sired from
Blood so blue so deep in legacy,
 It calls out across these glistening
Green fields with the sound of
 Thunder floating under foot,
 And a crown fit only to bear the
Name Percheron Vie.
                               
Slip foot barren to the gate,
I am not here to see you cry
In the unforgiving moonlight
My old friend.
The shadows have cast so much
Away from us that the company
Of my misery has become to loud
For me to stand it alone.
                                 
Let us remember that we were
 Once loved before,
As I search your eyes for just
A shade of ghostly apparition,
Your eyes search mine for the other
Half of everything that is dying in me.
What becomes of you and I,
Bound together with the string
Of all grievous misery ?

 I am not here to remember or forget,
Just to taste this life again, that was
So bold and free living in all
Spirit that could forge a sunset
To the graces of how she lived
In me.
                                            
She is gone my friend,
When the bell marked the hour
 As the procession of blank faces
Looked into me searching beyond
The catacombs of pain and anguish
To see what was left at the time
Of my untimely undoing.

Many have I seen and heard
With uplifting words that could
Pry the seal from mason jars
But to this day there is no wringing
Sentiment left to hold onto
And the echoes of every sound around me
Have pounded me like a nail
 That only my ears seem to hear

You too have been empty and unsaddled
She could unlock the thunder that pounds
With your heart,
And bear the breath of every scent
That lingers in the whistling wind
To the distance of all these acres enthroned.
I am not here to remember
As I stumble on what to say again,
Bear with me so as not to be alone.

 I need to see again what life has
Taken so precious from you and I.
Listen for the cock to crow at
 First light.
Come away with me to the sound
Of the cattle guard gate swinging wide.
You will bear her English saddle,
As I bear all the life she left in me.


Quick to the pastures of these
Glistening green fields as I set us free
In all the glory of a thundering ride.
 Awaken these still lying eyes with the
Sound of thunder under foot.

Run to the whistling breeze,
Run to hear everything she
Released in you,
Run to the endless echoes that
Dwell in the catacombs of all that I hear!
Let your thunder pound out this vile melody!
 I am not here to remember but to
Live again.

 Help me to live beyond Amazing Grace
That so deeply endowed her memory
To mine eyes that watched them carry
My beloved adorned in flowers,
To the mercy seat of God’s great throne.

I am too close to see, I know
I will tarry perched upon the gate
To watch you glide in the distance.
In the sound of  thunder I will
Close my eyes to live again.
When I open them again
 I will see her upon you
 Beyond the dales in the back forty
Gliding above the morning mist.

The mist is rising I hear
Her calling to you,
Beyond this Percheron shire.
Fair with her again my weary friend
And bring her home to me.
                                        
Quicken to the breeze
As my heart beats even faster,
Loosened on the ends as my
Thoughts slip from my fingertips,
This ghostly gasp of apprehension
Is what’s left to end the sorrow in
All the days I have yet to breathe into.
                                        
Bring her home or carry her above the
Rising mist for me to see again
All the life that is dying inside
Of me,
That still beats strong in the
Sound of your thunder.