Mo' Poetry Thursday - Already!!

Pegasus

When you were a bare-legged raggedy child
did you watch the sky for a white-winged horse?
Did you dance a delighted duet to wild
whispers until your father whistled - coarse

and tunelessly from the flower-less front yard -
and all the incantations went instantanously dead?
The fury so rapidly replaced the magic, and scarred,
unimaginably, your tangled twisted head.

When you were a child, did each tear turn cold before
it hit the ground and fed the worms? The earth
didn't care that it was conceived in heat - and what's more
the whistle warned you early on that birth

is, in itself, a kind of newly begun death. Never mind,
it didn't scare you nearly as much back then.
Do you still search the sky for horses of the unsafe kind?
If they flew there in the past, perhaps they'll fly again.

This time, silence the unoriginal fear.
The whispering of white wings are all you need to hear.