"heaven flows" a poem in free verse #20

I fly on wings from Texas,
on freedom wired of the dreams elusive cares.
Austin, it's time to get on an iron horse from the knights of the man and ride to L.A. as the bell tolls for the king is coming.
Take me home to the oceans shore,
on the horse from Sutter Home

She is the pretty,
the winged hoof,
of my belief.
That fly's on the shadows shared.
Where did this start on the golden rings of Sutter Home?

In the fields of which her horses drink,
they do not speak,
for she rides on in the photographs,
pictures black dyed chalets of Sutter Home.
Look upon the sunder of which is touched from her photograph.
Love isn't a stranger in her photograph.
Pictures of passions that are wept in her eyes,
that I see.
In her sadness of the grasp in which is her gaze,
that keeps me up at night,
to write of Sutter Home.

I live to call her home to the change of a new venue,
in my eyes which are bright in her gaze,
that money can't buy.
I'm her Dr. feelgood,
that touches her soul.
I write the prescription to fill her hood.
As I play in the madness to stare in her crystal ball,
to stave her sadness.

In her fantasy realms of which her horses drink,
but do not speak, shh keep the secret silent.
Ride out of their sight from Austin city lights to the Angels of L.A.
As they peer from strings on the shore.