The Horse That Runs

I am horse

You do not love me

I will run and run

under night sky or blazing sun

across the Umbrian plains

or the chalk fields of Texas

and when I tire

I will lay down to rest

beneath a rusted oak tree

with ants crawling at my legs

my salivation to the grass
and lonely wind

I rest and rise to continue
the unending trek towards you

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