by Ethel Mortenson Davis
When I was young
I yearned for a pony,
a brown, bushy-maned,
fast-stepping pony:
One that I could let
have his head
and taste what freedom
really was.
When I was older,
I told everyone
I was going to marry
a man from the West
that owned a horse ranch.
Now I’m getting too old
to ride horses,
but can watch herds
of wild horses
in the West —
if they can keep
from getting caught
and made slaves out of;
they are the freest
of all horses,
like birds
who are the freest
of us all.
fourwindowspress 
Eloquent poem, Ethel… I fear someday there’ll be no more horses running free. And as a metaphor I fear for all of us. May the birds forever elude such captivity.
Thank you Betty. Love to you today. Ethel
Thank you for that, Ethel. I can feel it and it really helps. 💚
You know, Ethel, Betty Hayes Albright is spot on. This is an eloquent poem – and beautifully handled.
Kind words for a lacking poem I’m afraid. Love Ethel
Perhaps it is that we come nearest to freedom is in the realm of our dreams, however much they change as the years go by.