Young Poets Life is a dusty haze, Like the sand in a time glass, Plumes rising from the fall, Tumble weeds and dead grass.
A rusty horse-shoe glints, Half buried in the red, Grit filling up the grooves, Ants had made it their bed.
This sign of beating hearts, A refuge for desire, Riding trail swept away, By a wind as hot as fire.
But a cave arises, Built of stones stacked up high, The promise continues, And riders give a sigh.
Despite the harsh desert, And sand in sleepy eyes, Life's haze can be joyful, With a horse by your side.
The power of words has always amazed Sam Reilly. Like so many, she grew up with her eyes aligned with the pages of horsey novels and her heart…