Wooden horses

You make wooden horses.
Long slow strokes a tail,
Whittle and chip.
Strong hooves,
Unbridled, free.

I sit still as air,
Watching,
Waiting for one
I can ride,
Tumbling into the sunset,
Sawdust under my nails,
Oaked trail dust at my
Kicking heels.
Unbridled, free.

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2 thoughts on “Wooden horses

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