The Choice

I threw away the hoofpick
that I carried with me
from apartment to apartment.
The one I found
in the dirt
at the stable I haunted
as a child.

I returned the soft grooming brushes,
red curry comb,
and bulky saddle pads.

My dream vanished like mist
on a spring morning;
dried and destroyed.
I resigned myself to life
in a drab dark condo
with a man who drove a blue Buick
and clipped coupons.

I buried the dream
of living free
in a canyon cottage;
windows flung open
to wind and rain and sun.
Hay in my shoes.
Grain in a bucket.
Carrots in my pocket.

 

I wrote this poem from two prompts.  Adele’s prompt to write about the road not taken and from Three Word Wednesday’s words for this week: mist, resign and bulky.

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18 thoughts on “The Choice

  1. This saddened me, never wanting anyone to throw away their dreams. On a literary note, your construction flows well, the line breaks and cadence are comfortable while emphasizing the discouragement in the message.

  2. Your next poem should be titled “Dreams, Reality, Reborn”. And I drive a white, 4wd, long bed pick up; to which attached is a 4 horse slant load trailer. And, I DON’T do coupons.

  3. This one is a very strong poem. Women are so versatile that they can literally make changes then change again.. clever us.. I don’t know if this IS you in the poem, but it does show the love you feel for the acroutement (sp) of your profession. i still have lesson plans from my teaching days though I cannot teach in the states without going back to school.. but I still keep my plans because I wrote them.. take care.. c

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