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The Poetry of Joe Cairney...
THE GAME
With half closed eyes he scans the plane
then glancing upward, senses rain.
Sitting up straight in his leather throne
He tells his horse "Gee up, let's get going!"
Muscles and sinews of the dark brown steed
harden like rock as they gather speed.
In a race against nature they hurtled along
There's a storm coming and it's blowing strong.
Over hills and valleys they make their mad dash
as the thunder explodes with a lightning flash.
A blanket of darkness covers the western blue sky,
and the cowboy and horse continue to fly.
Water runs from his brim as if from a spout
Must get there on time of that there's no doubt.
A voice from the darkness reaches his ear
"Jordan put your bike away, dinner's ready my dear".
Joe Cairney
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