It's cold outside a night; yet I am colder.
The year is very old; but I am older.
Of my phaeton pair, I must say the grey
has died today. Inside I am grey:
one horse down and I nearly broke my crown.
The dark stallion whinnied, both ears down:
dead love lay bloodied by a pistol ball.
What else could I have done? Such a bad fall!
No longer will they tear me near in twain;
it is the dark one will direct again.
Now more sedate he seems, yet still in shock;
his coal flanks shiver as hooves click on rock;
with sharp anxieties his wide eyes rove;
yet he consents to bear me from the grove.
..................
*This is a mythology. No horses were shot. Just Love adying
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Winter Trails
PoetryWinter Trails is an album of my poems, journeying through late fall when the wire of the trees begins to dominate, till the end of January. After promoting it and it soaring to three quarter million reads, Wattpad unceremoniously dumped it. Here it...
