09-29-2016, 04:40 AM
The Knackers Yard
There's a sad knowledge in the ponies eyes, he stares through the rain from under a heavy oak. A yard prisoner I found battered and broke, his grey patched back all scratched and bitten by horse flies, a poor pot belly trembles as he tries to move towards my hand. Just a touch or the softness of my stroke, his head lifted in response as I spoke. I command the clouds to drift away bring sunlight down to fields and trees for painful bones I wrought a warm southern breeze. Coiled the barbed wire from drystone walls that dug so deep his flesh could only heal until the next time. I slipped inside the field, straddled the five bar gate my voice as low as my posture. The rain disobeyed me and began to pour from his eyes,it was all washing away, the mud soaked ground the grey stones from the wall, branches falling in browns and greens all swirling and fading into water colour. As my hand traced the curve of his back he turned to face me and I was gone. Thundering across the fields, my hair moving in time with my body a huge heart pounded under each step racing towards the gate never slowing. As I took to the air the top bar just touched my feet but I was free heading for the next field, I could have run forever. The pony blinked and I was back under dripping branches watching the rain flatten his mane onto his eyes, he pushed his nose between my arm and torso and we held each other for a moment. He slowly walked away his knees trembling once again as he reached the grass less patch under the oak. I decide not to climb the gate and slipped the nylon rope that holds it shut, it swings wide open and I walk on through then up the hill. I feel him through the ground, slow at first breaking cover then faster and faster he flashes through and races on field after field, muscles moving, burning breathless. I don't need look back and neither does he.
There's a sad knowledge in the ponies eyes, he stares through the rain from under a heavy oak. A yard prisoner I found battered and broke, his grey patched back all scratched and bitten by horse flies, a poor pot belly trembles as he tries to move towards my hand. Just a touch or the softness of my stroke, his head lifted in response as I spoke. I command the clouds to drift away bring sunlight down to fields and trees for painful bones I wrought a warm southern breeze. Coiled the barbed wire from drystone walls that dug so deep his flesh could only heal until the next time. I slipped inside the field, straddled the five bar gate my voice as low as my posture. The rain disobeyed me and began to pour from his eyes,it was all washing away, the mud soaked ground the grey stones from the wall, branches falling in browns and greens all swirling and fading into water colour. As my hand traced the curve of his back he turned to face me and I was gone. Thundering across the fields, my hair moving in time with my body a huge heart pounded under each step racing towards the gate never slowing. As I took to the air the top bar just touched my feet but I was free heading for the next field, I could have run forever. The pony blinked and I was back under dripping branches watching the rain flatten his mane onto his eyes, he pushed his nose between my arm and torso and we held each other for a moment. He slowly walked away his knees trembling once again as he reached the grass less patch under the oak. I decide not to climb the gate and slipped the nylon rope that holds it shut, it swings wide open and I walk on through then up the hill. I feel him through the ground, slow at first breaking cover then faster and faster he flashes through and races on field after field, muscles moving, burning breathless. I don't need look back and neither does he.
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out