Laying Sick Poem by Randy McClave

She laid sick in her bed
Sometimes motionless as if she were dead,
She hates being there confined
That is not how her life is defined.
She is more than just a stunner
She is indeed a runner,
No food or help does she seek
She has had no appetite for a week.
Into life and adventure, she once sprang
She, of course, is the wild mustang,
She is not known as a quitter or a setter
Her fight she will win and she will get better.

Randy L. McClave