Re:waiting

[Rides 2 Far <rides2far@juno.com>]

Hey guys,
I really enjoyed Jan's poem "Waiting"...but I kept imagining my own words
in it.  She gave me permission to send in my version. Never been much for
writing poetry, but it's not too hard when you just have to fill in the
blanks. :-) I copied Jan's original version after this. If you happened
to miss it read it first. It's very nice.

"Waiting" Angie's version:
 
 I shall miss it now that he is lame.
 That smell of ichthammol is imbedded in my hands.
 But not for long, Please God not for long
 He awaits, hot breath a cloud in the cold air
 To have a running fit on the leg he's supposed to favor
 He waits, but not 30 days like the vet suggested.
 
 I shall miss it now that he is lame.
 The completion I needed to stay in the ranks.
 No, not for long, I call the vet, he will not be alone
 His voice ringing, "give me ultra sound, Adequan, anything"
 How can I afford it?
 He waits
 
 I shall miss it now that he is lame
 The click, snap and slap of tack, the spark of steel against rock
 Yes, I can hear it; my friends leaving without me.
 In my dreams, in my blood, pounding, yearning, pulling me again to buy a
 second horse.
 Money slipping through my fingers.
 He waits
 
 I shalln't miss it now that  he is lame.
 The long winter, cold and shivering, neighbors peaking out the curtains
 at the strange woman who rides in sleet.
 Yes, for at last I am answering, the misery done
 Wet breath in my ear, mane in my fingers, hoof on my toe.
 For once again I long to be on the trails...
 He limps no more.  >



<WAITING
<I shall miss it now that it is gone
<That smell of salt, grass breath and manure
<But not for long, surely not for long
<He awaits, hot breath a cloud in the cold air
<Tromping the snow making it fly
<He waits

<I shall miss it now that it is gone
The calls for an early start, the snorts of pleasure, oh how I <shall
pine
No, not for long, he calls me still, he will not be alone
<His voice ringing, sending shivers up my arms, down my spine
How can I bear it?
<He waits

<I shall miss it now that it is gone
<The click, snap and slap of tack, the spark of steel against rock
<Yes, I can hear it, for deep, deep is the bond
In my dreams, in my blood, pounding, yearning, pulling me again <to be
the jock
<Leather slack in my fingers
<He waits

<I shalln't miss it now that it is gone
The long winter, cold and shivering, devoid of trails
<Yes, for at last I am answering, the misery done
<Wet breath in my ear, mane in my fingers, muscle against <muscle,
nothing ails
<For once again we are on the trails, and
<He waits no more.

Copywrite - Janice Taylor


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