Sometimes I find myself alookin’ <br /> Through the years, a backward glance, <br />And I see the friends of childhood <br /> From the years now gone before. <br />And I ponder endless summers <br /> Fighting foolish odds with chance, <br />While life drifted, careless, onward <br /> Till we woke, a child no more. <br /> <br />But it’s the hoofbeats. A hundred <br /> thousand pounding hoofbeats <br />Of a dozen horses, galloping, <br /> That keep calling from the past; <br />As we raced along the creekside <br /> Feet a pulsing, like vast heartbeats, <br />In those glorious bygone summers <br /> Lingering on, like shadows cast. <br /> <br />Bridle chains are still a ringing, <br /> Creaking saddles call my name; <br />Tinkling spurs, like errant windchimes, <br /> Feed my mind their ghostly treats; <br />Yes, at times I roam in fancy <br /> To the childhood, whence I came, <br />But the sound engraved forever <br /> Come as phantom, drumming beats.<br /><br />Wildwood Slim<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hoofbeats/
