Into Dusk

I saw a couple of horses

Whilst overlooking a frozen field

And each horse was a passion

Still undefeated by winter

But dejected. Ambling splotches

Of breath within an expanse. Perhaps,

They are in absence of a whip

Waiting for that rising horn

That rallies boys into men

Dimness ran a circle around the field

A swan crossed the water diagonally

Towards a stockpile of wood

What were those horses waiting for

Within this wasteland… fenced into darkness?

If only those horses, could hear my screams

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The Fear

Pageboy

^(Note: I've been writing vignettes and short form poems for a while, so I tried to attempt something more substantial. Taken a lot of queues from Larkin's vague "melancholy-ness" and imagery.)