Tonight you’re in costume, the grand toreador
Feeling pride in the getup, of bull fighters lore
You smile as you’re thinking, that you look quite fine
And hope that you’ll get, to the ball right on time
One last look in the mirror, you head for the door
You’ll never return, to this life as before
You run two by two, down the stairs to the street
And think of the party, and who you might meet
The cape that you carry, flows red in the breeze
Has just caught my eye, for one moment I freeze
Then lower my head, hooves scratching the ground
Come charging and snorting, as you whirl around
My eyes of a blue that do mesmerize you
Horns mighty and deadly and ready to do
What many brave fighters have done to my kind
I’ll gore you with pride, then I’ll leave you behind
Linda Pahl, 5/18/14
This is my first ever poem.
At 61, I'm a tad late to the party, eh?
To see the image that inspired me to write it:
http://instagram.com/p/oVXkUvzd3t/