My Paso Fino, poetry written by Joni Caggiano at Spillwords.com

My Paso Fino

My Paso Fino

written by: Joni Caggiano

@theinnerchild1

 

Torrents of rain relentlessly fell from the night’s heavy and blackening sky.
As she shot forth, a thorn tore the tender pink flesh of her muscular thigh.
Soaked were her tight undergarments and so too, was her long green dress.
Emerald the color of her large eyes darting forth which she dared not rest.

She would again be gazing upon his formidable body and long golden locks.
She knew the sizable ship would be waiting for them to board on the docks.
He would take her tenderly, into his thick cloak, until her body was warm.
Always protecting her from all foe, fears, and each insufferable storm.

For she loved his smell, kindness, strength, and his forever gentle heart,
And try if they must, but no one could keep these dutiful young lovers apart.

Seeking light that would safely guide her small, but sturdy and shapely frame,
although each gallop drove her closer toward their families soon to be shame.
Off on a passionate ride, that would undoubtedly free her, from her father’s farm.
Nightly she dreamt of her lover’s heated breaths and his heart-rendering charm.

Her pale, white skin covered faultlessly, her small, but curvaceous form.
With his four-beat gait, her gifted horse rode swiftly and daringly into the storm.
Always when mounted, she felt in control of her Paso Fino and his unfaltering power.
She was soaked to the bone and chilled by the steady flow of this continuous shower.

For she loved his smell, kindness, strength, and his forever gentle heart,
And try if they must, but no one could keep these dutiful young lovers apart.

With a slight kick to his side, she tossed her waist-length hair back with her hand.
As her horse fixed his intensified pace in the gleaming Kentucky white sand,
her flesh stung, as she caught a glimpse of tonight’s full yet shadowing moon.
She shivered as she ached to attain her fiancée’s familiar touch soon.

Forbidden to see him again, for as a mere child he had committed a trivial crime.
Every moment apart, she felt her soul tortured, as they had lost precious time.
Deep was her passion for this lover of literature and boundless poetry they found.
It grew hard to see this well-traveled path, as the darkening night hid the ground.

For she loved his smell, kindness, strength, and his forever gentle heart,
And try if they must, but no one could keep these dutiful young lovers apart.

Her father was a wealthy man, unreasonable and given to constant and ridiculous worry.
Gently giving commands to her horse, she was late, so she knew she must hurry.
Kentucky bred just like her horse, so often she had felt like her daddy’s grand prize.
Forbidden to see her love and determined to be together forever, but her father had spies.

She grew close to her lover’s spread, by the sycamores, and white and blue ash trees,
where her beau asked for her hand, just a week ago, as he fell to his knees.
Placing a clover necklace upon her long slender neck, and then a sweet ring,
they had laughed and played without restraint as he pushed her on their tree swing.

For she loved his smell, kindness, strength, and his forever gentle heart,
And try if they must, but no one could keep these dutiful young lovers apart.

He would be ready, only necessities packed and was willing to move far away.
Her father’s price would be the death of her, she never even considered to stay.
Her belongings packed long ago, kept in a large leather bag in his tack shed.
A sexy nighty bought in Louisville she had wrapped for that evening after they wed.

His parents had left him another large estate close to the edge of the Mississippi river.
Her mother’s heart would break, and that was the pity, but her love would not wither.
She felt the flush of her face as she imagined how her body would feel after his touch.
The hunger they shared as each longed for the other and how they had shared so much.

For she loved his smell, kindness, strength, and his forever gentle heart,
And try if they must, but no one could keep these dutiful young lovers apart.

Finally, she saw him and her heart skipped a beat as he was now standing so near.
With the loud crack of thunder, she whispered under her breath, oh my darling my dear.
As he stood in his cloak, hair soaked, just past the grouping of hundred-year-old trees,
suddenly the lightning struck close to her Paso Fino, he rose and so abruptly did freeze!

She fell in slow motion as her head hit a large rock and she saw his grand muscular face.
He cupped her head in his significant hands, and with his finger he slowly did trace,
the lines of her naturally dark, pinkish lips as he kissed her just once more goodnight.
How stunningly beautiful his only love looked in the brilliance of that haunting moonlight.

She uttered softly I am so sorry my darling as his face began to fade and she slowly stilled.
The next day in chains, headlines were about the local debutant found brutally killed.
Throwing his head toward the heavens, still in shock from his loss, he let out a scream.
He grew old in prison in Mississippi, where his only comfort lived in his dreams.

Dying at the age of sixty alone, he thought of her smell, kindness, and gentle heart,
With his last breath, in heaven, he saw her again, for God had no desire to keep them apart.

Joni Caggiano

Joni Caggiano

Joni Caggiano is a self-published author of the book, “The Path Toward the Light.” Her blog is the-inner-child, where she has published poetry, photography and short stories. Her poetry and photography have been featured in The Finest Example. Her work can also be seen at Vita Brevis Press. Her blog is an effort to give back - she is a surviving Adult Child of Alcoholics. In addition, she writes about things that matter to her in the world we live in today. She started writing songs and poetry at the age of thirteen and has been writing ever since.
Joni Caggiano

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