Exercise In St.

In the stirrups of the milk white steed

I stand

And with legs steady

I see that for which I strive.

Alive I am so out I strike

Guiding giant strides,

Ever vigilant to study

Every tree and stump,

Mindful of the strumpets

Who might offer up strophe

In the middle of my struggle.

I vow to not be stranded

As a stranger

Who lays stretched

Upon his shield of straw.

Nor shall I allow any one to stifle

This journey which is stilted

As the arch within the steeple.

Long will I hold strong

As upon this course I stay

Stanch in statement

And static as a stave

Until from these two stirrups

I stand down and never stagger.

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Melissa Rives's picture

Another excellent write. I loved the ending tone of this. And may we never stagger in our purpose or in our words. :)