BROOM HORSES

snowbanks high as street signs
we read ‘em all the same
what was at the time so thrilling
now lies sleeping with no name

as we rode our broom horses
and carried secrets that we’d never tell
as we rode our broom horses
and whispered grown-up words like sex, booze & hell
as we rode our broom horses

far from places gleaming
the shooting stars were free
we dreamed up exotic futures
and the dancers we would be

winters on the ice rink
poison ivy in the spring
suspended over the waving grass
back then we had wings


© 2003 MJ Bishop