life

Life

Loves horses

Teaches children, but doesn’t like them

Wants to get rid of her pimples

Life

It’s not that she loves them,

It’s not that they love her,

It’s a way of being,

Hay,

Woodchips,

Thin wooden walls,

With metal doors,

Open air,

Cool breezes,

Her hair,

Floating,

Swimming,

Dancing,

As she and he,

Race along that river bank,

His heart pulsing strongly below her,

His feet,

Silent,

Yet singing,

Their own private song to her,

As, she sits atop,

Her legs braced,

Her feet firmly planted,

By his sides,

Her head still,

Rising and falling,

With every stride he takes.

They slow to a walk,

She leans down,

Her arms

Swallow his neck,

She breathes him in,

She feels his scent,

His body is hers,

And hers is his,

She sneaks a kiss,

Right by his ear,

And whispers,

Thank you dear.

They walk inside together,

She holds him close,

She holds him near,

He’s home,

She releases him,

And he drops to the ground,

He rolls around,

Kicking his feet in the air,

Flicking his hair,

He stops,

And gives her that look,

She too,

Drops,

Like a ball bouncing,

Rolling to a rest,

Her back leaning against his back,

Her hands, gently stroking his soft face.

By any other means,

She does this small task for money,

It’s good,

A little difficult,

A patience builder,

A character grower,

Learning is such an important thing,

Learning, is what makes us grow,

Knowledge is power,

And knowledge is the great provider,

And to help make that power,

That provider,

Great people like her are needed,

Great people like her make a difference,

Great people like her change the world,

One child at a time,

Yeah,

But that’s the thing,

They are smelly,

And stinky,

They cry,

And they wee,

They shout,

And they scream,

They raise a finger

And the world revolves around it,

They are the centre,

And the rest are a mere accessory,

They have ears,

That are freshly painted on,

By their parents each day,

When they leave home,

She wakes each day,

Fresh from her dreams,

In the fresh air,

Her beauty soon drains

From her delightful face,

When she realizes,

She has to see them again,

Get it done quick,

Like ripping a band aid off

Her soft brown skin,

Get the money,

Get the long holidays,

Get the rewards,

She knows she’s due,

And get the f… outta there,

Before, they kill another cell,

And add another day to her

Fast disappearing beauty.

In the mirror,

She sees someone she doesn’t  wanna be,

She sees a face,

A great set of hair,

A perfect pair of eyes,

A nose, alone,

Yet comforted,

By a few teeth,

With her pink tongue,

Resting below,

They  light up,

And shout out,

Whenever she opens

Her delicate mouth.

Yet she’s still isn’t happy,

Why is it, that she can’t see

What the rest of us see,

An incredibly beautiful girl,

Standing by her horse,

All in young and black,

Why is it that she can’t see,

That special person we all know,

And care about it,

Those red things, red and white.

Scattered across her face,

Is all she see’s,

That mirror reflecting back to her,

A truth she cannot accept,

She wants them to fade away,

She wants them to be confined,

To the dustbins of history,

Yet there they are looking back at her,

What she wants ,

She cannot have,

She’s not happy,

Yet she’s only young,

They tell her story,

Her youth,

They tell her life,

Like her,

They are a great teacher,

Teaching her patience,

And acceptance,

And love,

Teaching her that beyond,

These physical extremities,

There is a beauty,

There is a heart,

Ready to open up ,

And share with the world,

All its treasures,

The problem is,

That the world knows it,

Yet, she doesn’t!