the horses are gone--but not the corrals
with a black dog named Boo, who watches it all
from late in the evening to every breaking dawn
one silver horse is all that remains
you turn the key and the thrill is the same
all leathered up in our jackets and chaps
sheltered from the cold, we ride without maps
into the mountains on trails that you know
your hands on grips and warmed by your gloves
my arms around you--holding on tight
the sun sinks slowly now, moon and stars guide
peaceful and beautiful alone on this trail
this scenic path without any guardrails
onward and upward, smooth is our ride
I will go anywhere with you by my side
Poetry by M.J.B. is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License
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