What was that sound whispering in the wind?
I fear it was my youth fading with the light.
Whose proud passions lit up the night,
And flaunted every fair maidens virtue?
Nevermore will the stallion run the plains.
A quiet stall in the barn is more appealing.
No standing with my back against the cold.
My stiffness aches focusing on wounds of old.
Memories of my flights into the sun,
I'm alone in a crowd of has beens.
Pacing, I long for the summer of my youth,
When I would run, no, lead the herd,
Thundering across the plains to the sounds
of the rhythms of chance.
I stopped only to embrace that rare romance,
that strengthened my resolve to be free.
What happened to me?
That of which I was so proud has let me down.
Did summers end happen so abruptly,
or did it sneak up like the thief in the night?
A vengeful follower waiting for his chance
to take what couldn't be earned.
I bear no grudge.
With regal bearing I stand against fate,
And dream of running with the wind.