The Boy and his Tangerine Steed

I still remember that first late night drive,

I had that Proclaimers song blaring,

As I rode her steadily down the highway.

The sky, as I remember it,

flashed green like my eyes,

and its shade faded creamy like her lights.

The sun, as I remember it,

scorched orange like a tangerine dream,

a spitting image of her,

a reflection from murky water.

I made it safely to my destination,

that sweetly-colored flight,

and many a time over,

proud and ignorant of her sacrifice.

One night, on a disturbed country path,

her left leg buckled inside a crack,

her torso swung into a farmer’s ditch,

and her body was torn and punctured.

Her last act, to save her rider,

to hold him safely in her arms.

And though she died that night,

her rider was unharmed,

but a boy cradled in her heart.

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