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Jonathan Byrd
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Wild Ponies
She had legs like daggers and eyes like oceans
and her heart locked up in a hard combination.
I took her to the island, to see the wild ponies.
See, I had a friend who had a concrete boat, -
it don't take as much as you might think to float-
and he lived out on the island with the wild ponies.
We made a fire in the live oak trees,
and listened to the pirate breeze blowing.
And wondered how a man could be
so far from home, and still know where he's going.
She drifted down from a shipwrecked town
and landed here on the Pamlico sound.
She'd heard out on the islands, there were wild ponies.
I gave all I could give to her:
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a chance to see what she had heard
and a night out on the island with the wild ponies.
But she didn't stay here, like she didn't stay there,
always looking for somewhere a little greener.
Every time I see the ponies run-
scared and hungry, wild and young- I see her.
I heard somebody say she died
drinking one night on the ocean side,
swimming to freedom, like a wild pony.
I wish her well. I wish her peace.
It's got to be lonely to be so free,
always running, like a wild pony,
living your life like a wild pony.
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