The Horse

A poem about a wild horse

Out on the range head held high
A coat that’s black as the midnight sky.
Wild and free and unable to tame
One’s ability to ride can be a game

Looks at the man daring him to try
Some will attempt and some may die
Thunderous hooves pound the ground
A whinny and snort is the only sound

Pawing and prancing ready to rear
Nostrils flaring not showing him fear
Wild eyes are huge and breathing is steady
The cowboy locks in and begins to get ready.

The ride is violent the adrenaline pumping
As the horse bucks and continue it’s jumping
Will he stay on and finish his ride
Or will he fall off and know that he tried.