A terrified Comanche Maiden traveled fast
in the night,
As thunder roared and snarled----gave warnings
of a lightning strike.
Her horse whinnied in fear,
The molten heat was very near.
Her long black hair whipping in the torrid breeze,
Black eyes hoping she’d never see him, again--
she prayed—Oh Please!
The storm was coming fast and sure,
The heat of the night was too much
Heavy drops of rain fell in rapid force,
Big icy drops plummeted upon the
maiden and her white horse.
Savage Hawk was the Evil Spirit
of all time,
He killed her father--- yes, he committed
To claim her as his possession,
He roared with madness –instead
of a confession.
Dancing Bright Star raced on into the
She shivered with cold, as well as fright.
Evil she felt may be far---or a short
She kept on pushing her horse, until
darkness----turned to day.
A lightning flash showed her a cave
through the pines on a hill,
Her horse needed water—and
she needed her fill.
Slowing----- to the water she led Snowflake,
Stealthfully----- she led her horse through
the shallow lake.
Then into the hidden cave they fled,
She was a strong maiden —it had
High on a grassy hill---sat a tired cowboy
on his horse----not wanting to roam,
Weary from a day of riding on his range,
his only interest was going home.
Was he curious, yes, to say the least?
But all he wanted was to take his tired
body home for a feast.
But the lovely maiden had captured
Her beauty mesmerized him like an
unknown force—maybe she was like ascension?
He could almost swear she was a rising star,
Who had fallen to earth from afar?
With a closer look still, panic was painted
on her face,
He had to help her ---it seemed to be his place.
His Morgan Chestnut was spirited and fast,
Could arrive in a hurry---and would never be last.
The rugged good-looking cowboy pulled his hat
down and rode,
His Morgan barely left tracks —he was in a flying mode.
Behind him he felt someone coming closer,
and closer for the kill,
But his horse was way ahead-----and in minutes t
he cowboy and horse stood on the hill.
From the shadows behind the cowboy----
a tomahawk whizzed by his head,
As Dancing Bright Star’s arrow went
through Savage Hawk’s heart—--he was dead.
Now this story is not mine to finish,
Nor, will time diminish.
The love story of the cowboy and
Dancing Bright Star,
Is still told around the campfires at night,
It is weaved with the silver of the mornings light,
And wrapped with the gold from an Angel wing.
And it is said one can hear the Angels softly sing.
A perfect gift------ is this emotion called love,
Always known and shared with the Angels up above.
Enfolded so gently a couple’s hearts with love,
However--- the long wait for the gift of a baby from above.
No matter if she did not had the labor pain,
Adoption is a chosen love once again.
The priceless bundle of love wrapped in pink or blue,
Never did the parents know before or get the clue.
That little fingers grasped one heart and holds on tight,
Forever and a day babies hold----with all their might.
One’s heart was not prepared for such joy,
Be it a little dainty girl or a strong little boy.
But the gift of a life time was given here,
Parents, Grandparents all will give a cheer.
When love is covered in a warm baby quilt,
We learn this is how the home of love is built.