Young David Feels The Horses Running Beside Him

My name is Lucy,
back when I was just a lass,
I remember one evening,
a weeping woman
knocking upon our farm door,
and asking to speak
with our Father.

The next time we saw her,
she was carrying
young David
from out the back of a taxi.

He had spina bifida,
and was completely deaf,
he was 10 years old,
but only looked 5 or 6.
Big, apple-rosie cheeks
and a mop of chestnut hair.

Our Father nodded,
from a distance,
as she carried young David
over to the slight trough
at the side of the pathway,
which runs down
from the rolling hillside.
Then, stepping backwards,
a few feet, she waved.

Our Father nodded again,
lifted the big seashell
to his rough, bristly mouth
… and blew hard, twice.

Soon you could hear them,
pounding the ground,
somewhere up,
and just out of sight.
Then they crested,
and the volume increased,
dramatically and instantly,
as they thundered down
setting everything a-tremble.

Afterwards, we watched,
eagerly, as she lifted him up
… his mouth was open
in a wonderful, dazzling
laughing smile.
Our own Mother’s cheeks
were soaking wet,
as we saw the incredible
excitement animate
his face in thrilling life.

She mouthed the words
“Thank You”
from the short distance away,
before climbing back
into the waiting taxi
and taking young David
back to wherever they lived,
down in the sprawling city.

And although it had been years,
our Mother sang once again
whilst preparing dinner.
And our Father
walked the mile and a half
to the Public Tavern, alone
… after previously swearing
to never visit there again,
after our Brother Tommy died.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer, who’s currently up to his elbows in Magic, and long may it remain this way. Read other articles by Paul, or visit Paul's website.