Stone Horses

Stone Horses

I remember . . .
The horses that climbed my walls
full of color, of life, so alive
I could reach out and my fingers
would grasp silky manes of every color.
Their eyes aglow with secrets
that beckoned to me, that caressed my soul.
They were the breath for my dreams.
How I miss them now...

As a child I would wake to the sounds
of a torn family, of a broken life,
a hole in a magnificent quilt
that only stretched bigger with time,
no matter how my small fingers
would try to sew it back together,
I guess my fingers just couldn’t work
fast enough to make it whole again.

Those horses that were embedded
in rainbow colored, flimsy wallpaper
came alive, came to save me from nightmares.
I rode upon them, my dreams were my hope,
the horses were hope’s lifeline
until finally they no longer came alive,
I no longer rode upon their backs
to a place that was my fantasy.
The day came where they no longer answered
my aching cries to come rescue me.

Now, sitting here remembering,
I feel just a tinge of what I used to feel
as a child who knew little but rainbows
and running horses . . . the happiness
that once held me when I knew not reality but a dream.
They were the best days of my life, riding with those horses,
but now looking upon the walls, I see they’ve changed.
No longer do they come to my call, for they have turned
to stone. Knowing that not even my tears will bring them back
I can only hope that one day I just might glimpse
the same glow in their eyes that I saw as a child.

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