Black Sea Horses Poem by James McLain

Alone the little boy once a thief.
Tell none why the water it flows.
The brightest star my tongue has put out.
There was a woman involved.
But not to be empty of lumber good trees.
Life is not always pink cotton bottoms.
Dancing I turn
and glance back at misspent youth.

Now I get heavy and girls get to full.
They come as platoons of bullets and death.
Come take me a boy aged eight.
Overwhelmed I stop midway coming out.
Woman forget me not's are not posies.

Gosh that hurts being a boy that cries.
But sunflowers yellow coming up from the sea.
Color blind I'm shy bright red the brush.
An hour is too long to get to the end,
and yes to wait for more to come so I go.