Sandra E. Beguhn

(Davenport, Iowa, USA)

He Was Seventeen

Poem by Sandra E. Beguhn

He was seven teen..........
and learnin' to Rode Ride.
Things had been tough,
since his Dad had died.
His Mom, had to work,
she called him a fool,
because he had decided
not to finish school.
He had a problem
that he wouldn't let go,
though it would have helped
if asked, just shook his head no.
He worked with his horse
and because he was green,
expected perfection;
and it made him mean.
There was blood on the horse,
one night, when the moon rose high.
he sat down,alone,
and started to cry.
"Son, you're not gettin'
the gist of the game.
You'll not break that horse,
if you just give him pain.
Get up off your butt
and go treat him right,
lay down beside him,
stay with him all night.
Talk softly and often,
like he was your best friend.
He'll love you forever
and will to the end.
I'm sorry I left you,
before I could say,
how much you meant.....
I should have told you each day.
But, son, this is it,
I've given you my best shot,
I'm not much on words
these are all that I've got.
So go to that horse
and always be true,
he'll learn a lot quicker,
and he'll understand you."
The tears still streaming
he looked to the sky...
"thanks Dad, he whispered,
for saying good bye."
He was different, now,
no longer wild,
he'd grown to a man
and forgotten the child.
He worked with his horse,
everyday, after school,
treats his Mom with respect,
she whispers, Dan, our son is a jewel.

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Read poems about / on: horse, mom, school, son, respect, thanks, sorry, rose, work, moon, child, friend, green, pain, alone, night, sky, children

Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 2, 2003