Scout

Saddle

She sees more in everything than anyone I know.
But she still calls love “simple”
She sees to your soul. Clear to the things that speak.
But why do they only speak to her?
Even strangers. But she’s never met a soul called stranger.
All of their heart ache and pain, so freely placed on her back as if they’ve finally found home.
She carries it like God created her with a saddle between those shoulders.
Maybe He had.

Comments1

  • Noah

    This is an amazing poem. I love the description for a feeling you can feel in one passing moment. It also gives a cool, calm image of "she".



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