Not Enough Miles

I dreamed I was
On a wide open range
And the skies were
A translucent blue.
A mighty fine horse
With white socks and crown
Moved powerfully
Between my knees.

I smelled snow
On the wind
But it was a long way off
And it held no concern
For me.
The sun was high
The mountains were far
And I was as free
As a dying man might be.

Molly was my horse
But my name I forgot
Though that was of no matter to me.
There was plenty of jerky
Packed in my bag
And enough coffee
To last several days.

I tried to remember
Why I wanted to run
Why I had such a need
To make tracks.
There seemed no reason
Save a powerful desire
To not be found standing still.

In my breast pocket
Was a daguerreotype
Of a woman with long
Flowing hair.
Her eyes were half open
Mouth not quite closed
With some matter
Sure on her mind.

I knew she lay behind
I would ne'er see her again
And was why Mollie
Pressed hell for leather
In our run.

But it was only a dream
Mollie does not exist
And the snow may yet fall
Over me.
But the beautiful woman
With long flowing hair
With sleepy eyes and sensuous lips
Remains a daguerreotype in my breast.

And there are not enough miles
In God’s expansive heaven
That can rend her memory from me.