There is a slight memory and a
familiar about this place.
As a band of wild horses start
down an old forgotten trail.
To the dark valley below.
They drink from the cold spring,
and frolic in the green grass.
The cold is forgotten as they play.
the snowy mountain fades into
memory.
They settle down for the night
as sleep comes quickly
Throughout the night a cat calls
again and again.
Their sleep in broken frequently
Un- nerved by the night the band is up
early to slate their thirst.
As they start up the forbidden trail
as fast as they could..
Away from this valley of the cat.