Had a steer, that would come up to him
And plant his head in his chest.
Young Bobby would wrap his arms around his neck,
Clinging to the beast as it tore off across the pasture.
A sudden stop, and Bobby tumbles head-over-heels
Lanky limbs sprawling, grasping for orientation.
The steer laughs, comes over to the boy
Sitting there shaking his head,
And plants his head in his chest:
"Again," he says.
No comments:
Post a Comment