she used to hold a chicken
in her arms
and swing with them
in her arms
on that old rickety swing set
(the one that made creepy sounds
in the middle of the dark scary night)
she used to ride horses
fearlessly
she was bucked off
she was reared
she was bitten
but she persevered
because she was a fighter
and she never backed down from a fight
she was fighting
for nothing simpler than love
she used to feed baby cows
out of big baby bottles
made for cows
and she remembered
being dragged around
by a really thirsty cow
she cried when she lost her chickens to the dog
she didn't cry when her horse died
she didn't shed a tear when baby cows died
but she did cry
often
in the middle of the night
from bad memories
who is she now?
YOU ARE READING
Classic
PoetryA collection of poetry. Classic feelings added to classic thoughts equals classic poetry. Rated PG-13 for language. © 2015 layschips1
