The Thoroughbred

The man sits in his chair and pauses to think
Of a time in the past he ran into Mom's for a drink
He suddenly hears a soft whinny from below
His thoroughbred comes shaking her proud black head
And the wheels of his chair roll ahead.
Memories return as she nuzzles his face
When this man and thoroughbred over hill and valley raced
An accident left him confined to this chair
And at times, I wonder, did he cry,
"Is this thoroughbred inside of me really going to die?"
Now due to the unbridled love for his son
He struggled and soon his independence was won
You'll see these two now, this father and his son
There they go faster than a wink
The only thing changed from years gone by
Is they now, WHEEL, into Mom's for a drink
The man heads home now to his valley down the lane
Oh he knows how precious life fells
For nothing will ever corral or tame
This thoroughbred on wheels.

by Dianna Pryor Simpson

Other poems of DIANNA PRYOR SIMPSON (2)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.