A land of magic exists above the clouds <br />And a sad, old rocking horse sits by the window <br />Knowing he'd lost a friend. <br />A white tuft of hair is all that is left of a once grand mane, <br />Flakes of paint had fallen off his wooden head, <br />His plastic saddle had faded and cracked in the sun, <br />One of his antique glass eyes was missing, <br />Still, he sat, and as he looked out the window <br />A beam of light made its way to him, <br />It moved in a slow, magestic manner but had purpose, <br />As it hit the frosty window it burst into colour <br />The rocking horse was ungulfed by beauty <br />But soon realised he was beauty <br />His mind used to force itself through other's eyes, <br />Magic made him realise he was what he perceived, <br />And even though it was less than most rocking horses, <br />It was enough to make him rock in happiness until <br />The friend he had lost had a child. <br /> <br />(5 January 1981)<br /><br />Jeff Hobbs<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rocking-horse-2/
