**** butterflies in my stomach when i see you, i get the rush of wild mustangs trampling my body. the pounding hooves rattle my heart, and blurs of the meadow between heel and head hint at your blue-green eyes i so intently memorized. deafening neighs mask whispers in my head telling me to gaze a little longer. the force of their stampede whisks me off my feet just as your voice always does. but as the trailing horse disappears over the horizon, i'm left with the intoxicating feeling of your arms holding my broken pieces together.

Mustangs they are, wild horses who need gentling
Like Firestorm, where it took two hours to get him to walk three feet
         to a post
Dusty Levi’s, chaps and a whole lot of patience is what it takes coax
         these babies into bonding with the wranglers, who are penned
         up too
You see, they’re short-termed, non-violent offenders at this
          minimum security prison in the high desert south of Reno
Which is why they can all relate
Learn to be good citizens and not try to buck the system
Together in the bruising, blazing heat
Building trust, creating camaraderie
Getting to the point you can touch, pet, ride them
Working towards adoption day when the general public
Will trot them off to their new lives
The trainers and the mustangs having learned new skills
The world becoming a better place
Men and their mustangs achieving peace