Evening, there along the wall
Expectant eyes in every stall
Is it me you've come to see
Do come closer, petting's free
Don't really care about your day
I'm here, right now, to eat or play.
Fourteen faces, countless looks
Biographies concealed in books
Not yet written, not yet told,
So listen, hear their hearts unfold
A quiet nicker over there
A tail twitch stirs the fragrant air
That muzzle on a flake of hay
A hoof stomped in a certain way
Or perfect silence, dark and empty
For me, this evening, more than plenty.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment