Towards setting sun I strike a pose
in chase of dusk’s last errant kiss,
clinging tight to hope, disposed,
dreaming in the sweetest bliss
of light remembered,
touch recalled,
duty bound while love enthralled
across an ochre meadow, this.
Barley wisps ignite the lea
crowned in long ray’s amber fire,
blinding what I strive to see,
as stirrups stretch in raising higher
to glimpse the spark,
lift the veil,
find my love across this dell,
there chance to win her arms, retire.
Eternity my shortest day
hath called me from the tomb and grave
to burden deep my soul to stay,
to ride upon eternal wave
of amber field,
of setting sun,
to nearly see the face, the one
who’s love I couldn’t save.
Toward dusk I strike a hopeful pose,
dreaming of her one last kiss,
belay a sudden scent of rose
to carry home my heart, remiss
of pain endured,
beyond the tide,
at dream within this errant ride,
across this golden meadow’s bliss…
Eternally I ride…
jaybluepoems 
Oh, boy, I can see the rider – for me, he’s on a horse. I think that’s the beauty of what you write – you pull the reader in – we imagine what we want and get what we need.
Thanks Pat.
You know it was Don that told me what you get from a song, or poem, is what you want it to be. Everyone will interpret a different meaning and gain something for themselves from what they read our hear. You just have to hope it’s something positive. You can’t force the image you have in mind but you can always do your best to put it out there. I never would have stated wiring poetry if it hadn’t been for him. God bless ya Don.