Enjoyment on a Farm

Grazing fields, time to relax for a horse.
Bugs buzzing about, we hope they're not fleas.
Imagine the loss when the fields go bald,
The strong winds blow and old debris flees.
In old times of sadness I would've bawled,
It would be hard to call out, throat felt hoarse.

There are times when life feels heavy and hoarse,
That's the time to wish to be a wild horse.
In happy and sad moments, I have bawled,
I'm glad for no worries of little fleas.
When creatively charged, all reason flees,
No time to worry about who goes bald.

My friends chose to make their image bald,
Sometimes their heads, on the hand, feel quite hoarse.
All worries of hairstyles are gone, it flees,
They don't wish for a mane like a horse.
"Less worries." they tell me. "Without the fleas."
They made me laugh so hard, I almost bawled.

My child was so distraught, she sat and bawled.
Consumed with worry, I thought I'd go bald.
Sometimes the worries fly around like fleas,
Anxiety makes my voice sound so hoarse.
My friend tends to calm down beside his horse,
When they're bonding, love is there and stress flees.

When in enjoyment, time often just flees.
Family so happy, we smiled and bawled.
We roam the fields on the back of our horses,
No live thoughts on whether we're old or bald.
Yelling loudly makes our voices sound hoarse,
Happiness buzzes around like the fleas.

Our dog wouldn't want a case of the fleas,
When the frisbee takes flight, he also flees.
Guarding us from strangers, his bark sounds hoarse.
For our attention, our dog often bawled.
He often shed but never remained bald,
Always beside us when we tend horses.

Catching the fleas and, together, we bawled,
Anxiety flees without going bald.
A day on the horse and our throats feel hoarse.