racing over me in the sky,
running from the blue mountains,
but reaching for them on high.
I remember how green the grass was
and the gentle sound of cottonwood trees.
How their leaves shimmered and danced
across the sweetest smelling breeze.
I remember how the horses nickered
with soft noses shuffling through weeds.
Their eyes alight when I walk through the gate,
they would run to greet me, my loyal steeds.
Now I walk into the wind
let it burn my face, deafen my ears
to remember what it feels like
to fly after these hollow years.