Wild Horses on the Plains

There are wild horses on the plains.

They trot, gallop, and canter.

They live in a heard of pintos, chestnuts, more, and black,

With one of them leading in the center.

There are wild horses on the plains.

Nothing can compare,

To this wondrous sight I'm seeing,

If only you could've been there.

There are wild horses on the plains.

A speedy streak of blurry manes,

All running towards the destination,

Like a loud steam train.

There are wild horses on the plains.

Running wild and free,

The sound of hundreds of hooves on the grass,

You can feel the wind in the air, and hear their shrieking whinny.

(Such an old poem I can’t remember when I wrote it; reposted to this site December 6, 2017)