Traces

Traces

My kingdom for a horse -
which is a city
like any other.

The farriers of this kingdom,
lay down their tools
at the end of the day.

I prove we all exist
by begging one
for a horse shoe to nail above my door.

He agrees and kindly winks.
I am ready,
to throw away my walking shoes and ride.

but another shakes his head,
telling me to behave.

Wishes may be less
than horses to other beggars.

I watch as they sweep left-over neighs
into a corner with their brooms.




ã Patricia Crane 2003