Colin F. Jones


This horse I wish to share, you cannot ride,
Though in the stable you stroke its mane with pride.
He has a strength that draws against the rein
That to hold him back brings the rider pain.
You cannot know him unless you’ve been to war
And rode among the bodies and the gore.
Or been down trails never seen before
Among the shadows where my comrades are.
Sometimes he gallops furiously and free
Throughout my brain, into the core of me.
Sometimes he only plods and stops to rest;
Then just canters towards some hidden quest.
To put him out to pasture would be fine…
For then I’d know, at last it was my time.