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The Runaway

Rating: 4.4
Once when the snow of the year was beginning to fall,
We stopped by a mountain pasture to say 'Whose colt?'
A little Morgan had one forefoot on the wall,
The other curled at his breast. He dipped his head
And snorted at us. And then he had to bolt.
We heard the miniature thunder where he fled,
And we saw him, or thought we saw him, dim and grey,
Like a shadow against the curtain of falling flakes.
'I think the little fellow's afraid of the snow.
He isn't winter-broken. It isn't play
With the little fellow at all. He's running away.
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COMMENTS
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Tv man corner 06 December 2018
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1 4 Reply
Robert Frost 29 November 2018
you i will put a bomb in a plushie in you house
3 4 Reply
anna s 19 September 2018
This poem makes me sad
3 2 Reply
kari4 07 March 2018
no I have not read the poem amir 1
4 1 Reply
kari4 07 March 2018
no I have not read this poem amir 1
1 1 Reply
amir1 07 March 2018
have you read the poem
3 3 Reply
crazy man 20 December 2017
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