deepundergroundpoetry.com

Cattle

Our eyes met as we passed at the gate,
Led was she to the house, and to the field was I, to wait for weeks and months on end.

Taste not her elixir, nor excitement of love verboten, as my heart beat faster under hoof.

And later still, as frost descended, l lay there resting, chilled, amongst the icy blades, no measure of my despair.

I await the house and know she'll not be there. Inane end; an end of light of days.
Written by cxj419
Published
Author's Note
We're all sentient beings. We have the capacity to feel, perceive or experience subjectively.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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