Sometimes I find myself alookin’ Through the years, a backward glance, And I see the friends of childhood From the years now gone before. And I ponder endless summers Fighting foolish odds with chance, While life drifted, careless, onward Till we woke, a child no more. But it’s the hoofbeats. A hundred thousand pounding hoofbeats Of a dozen horses, galloping, That keep calling from the past; As we raced along the creekside Feet a pulsing, like vast heartbeats, In those glorious bygone summers Lingering on, like shadows cast. Bridle chains are still a ringing, Creaking saddles call my name; Tinkling spurs, like errant windchimes, Feed my mind their ghostly treats; Yes, at times I roam in fancy To the childhood, whence I came, But the sound engraved forever Come as phantom, drumming beats.
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