If I forgot myself for a moment,
I would take the smoke of every dark dream
And the white of a wedding dress--
I would take the shadow of every hurtful loss
And the white of clean sheets on a summer morning...
I would be light and wild and long-haired
With nothing to keep me on but two fistfuls of mane;
And when we would go thundering past the Reverend's house,
I would disappear down my horse's side, Indian style,
As if I might come burn down the house
Right in the middle of afternoon tea.
There has been light and dark to every day I have ever lived
And to every page I have ever read;
A girl and her horse, common as dirt, and yet uncommon in all our particulars.
When we are fast enough,
My hair behind me in the wind is dark at the root and white at the ends--
We will not pass this way again.
The horse pictured is The Gypsy King.