Life

Morning ...
the painted horse rocks slowly into the sunrise,
comforting dreams awakened.
A beginning,
unknowing of the sun's sleep.
Cries of joy seep from the heavens,
as the leaves fall to the ground,
as a rock skips across the water.
Childhood eyes go blind,
the clock screams.

Afternoon ...
the painted horse silently rocks in the memories of yesterday.
Church bells chime,
the sounds of today echo in the dreams of tomorrow.
Now mirrors of me experience the morning I have awakened from.
The rocking horse comes out of the shadow,
and rocks in the smiles of a next generation.

Night ...
A shadow cast on the sun's face,
no longer strong,
no longer young.
My childhood companion shuts its painted eyes,
and rocks my heart to sleep one last time.

by C. R., Gilbertville, MA
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