Ears Alert Saunters

Looking around at todaybrown horse
Looking the same as yesterday
A refrigerator’s leftovers
cold, old, told in whispers
seething once seeing once
There was more,
wasn’t there?
It was good
or was it?

Trying to stray from the pack
the horse, ears down saunters
toward a path never journeyed
knowing there’s a reason
waiting for its resolution.
It nurtures,
doesn’t it?
There is warmth,
isn’t there?

And the morning will be
slowly seeping into the day
holding off the inevitable
nightness of memory
while gray shades survive.
There was meaning,
wasn’t there?
It had a soul
didn’t it?

Or should looking be around now?

Ears Alert Saunters

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