Dusty, tattered, stretched denim. Sundried, desert etched skin. Sand blown, chapped lips – bleed. Sweat-stained, shredded Stetson sways back. Frayed riata strands drag behind a bull legged – limp.
Adonia is loose; white frame racing; black spots prancing; ‘cross green prairies – grassy.
The cowboy spits, sips beer, hears the Appaloosa’s laugh, as sun sets, red.
“Tomorrow, again, my beautiful senorita; tomorrow, we dance – once more.”
Call me Hanq 
There’a a very nice narrative thread here, which the long lines help support. Nicely done!
haha…it takes a bit to break a horse….we have a few corrals nearby….it is a dance…really great descriptions in this…i like all the texture and grit…and i am leaving with a smile….cool verse man…
The end made me truly smile with a silent laugh. Very cute. Can’t wait for the dance.
Nothing like the love between a cowboy… or a horsewoman… and the horse. I have several horsewoman friends. They are not to be trifled with!
ha…i love that he looks at it like a dance..he’s cool…of course…he doesn’t give up..he’s a cowboy…love this henry
I love the patience and sense of time passing in your poem. Perhaps it is the longer lines that did it, but I really felt I was suspended in this scene – love it!
Well, I hope the cowboy enjoys the ride of such a feisty beast..a spirit that runs wild and free..tomorrow we dance once more…
Ah, I love this! It’s probably not surprising to know that I cut my teeth on westerns, and still watch them (when the kids let me control the remote). Great visual writing, like a scene lifted straight from film.
Love the fast paced words, flowing along the page ~ Dance once more, cowboy ~ Good to see you Henry ~