Bakelite Horses and Riders <br /> <br />Ridden hard by cowboys and Indians, <br />a few tin soldiers and one molded beige girl, <br />my brother’s stable of plastic horses <br />raced ever forward, <br />guided through swaths of rose flowered carpet. <br /> <br />They pranced and they galloped, tails flying, <br />riders thrust forward, holding guns and fine bows. <br />I greatly admired two riderless blacks <br />reared up on hind legs - hooves smacking the air! <br />O brave rebels who would not join the fray! <br /> <br />A gold palomino with four white stockings <br />called out to be stolen: Was heard. <br />Fingers sneaked in a ride <br />while the god’s back was turned. <br />(Totally worth the smack.) <br /> <br />Seriously bowlegged, <br />one old cowboy sent glares. <br />Hat pulled down over dark face, <br />he was sitting it out on a nearby shelf. <br />We commiserated: Pouts and loud sighs. <br /> <br />Sometimes when I was lucky <br />my brother would offer this plucky beige girl <br />and a horse he’d decided was lame. <br />I didn’t care! We rode, screamed wild abandon, <br />from battle to smooth oaken floor.<br /><br />Anne Morin<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bakelite-horses-and-riders/
