REFLECTION 

One summer's day, my horse and I,

Went wading in a brook nearby,

The air was warm, and soft and sweet,

The water swirled around his feet.

All was still except the sounds,

That summer brings and wraps around,

Beating softly butterfly wings,

Tender arias, the mockingbird sings.

We chose to pause, my steed and me,

And listen to the tiny sea,

Of the softly flowing drops,

For us, all sense of time had stopped.

I chanced to downcast with my eyes,

And what I saw, to my surprise,

Was not this day of time and space,

But reflections of another place.

The horse I saw, reflected there,

Had no mount, his back was bare,

For I had disappeared you see,

The water said there was no me.

Instead, his back, a blanket of red,

With racing tack upon his head,

Alert and sleek, so young again,

Poised and waiting, the race to begin.

I stared, amazement in my eyes,

And beheld this vision of time gone by,

 My steed was as he used to be.

I heard him make a gentle sound,

As he turned his head around,

To gaze across the land and brook,

With a far-off, distant look.

A wistful countenance his face,

Remembering a long-past, distant race?

Had he seen with reveries,

Himself, a colt, sweet memories?

One summer's day, in a soft, still place,

My steed and I spanned time and space,

"Look down," the magic waters beckoned,

And yielded us, its sweet reflection.

Sharon Liles Barnes

July, 2007