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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=548050" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Cavallina Storna</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=548050" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The grey horse follows its familiar road home, <br>it pulls a wagon with a man at the reigns.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=548050" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Its hooves kick up dust. This is Sicily.<br>It's Summer and it hasn't rained in months.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=548050" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The man at the reigns is dead.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=548050" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The horse waits patiently for her master's whip.<br>She won't speed up without it. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=548050" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">At the barbershop in town <br>hair floated cutting through beams of light<br>and irritating his breath.<br>He thought he was to die right there, <br>but they waited till he was on the road.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=548050" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The horse's eyes are covered to keep her calm.<br>She can only see ahead where she can make out<br>the house, and the children waiving <br>from the branches of the orange tree.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Matthew+Christopher">Matthew Christopher</a></strong></div>