For Sunday Scribblings prompt #279 Distant
Come
back, my bull,
I wake
up every morning
And
stand at the homestead
Hoping I
will see you coming
With an
arrow in your hands
And
bravery in your footsteps
Come
back, my bull,
My heart
is getting cold
I need
you in my arms again
Its been
many moons now
Come
back, my bull
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