A horse without a fancy barn
Without stable hands to groom it
A horse perhaps on a modest farm
Or a poor family’s farm in winter
If lucky there’s a blanket some
Straw a tub of water
If lucky a few more horses
Warm bodies like your own
At least you have a place
A field to age in
That is unless you’re carted off
Slaughtered and then canned for food
What happens when a man grows old
Without a place to call his own
Perhaps without a blanket
Living underneath a bridge
Perhaps with others
Or alone
With luck a charity coat or jacket
Warms his back or hers
With luck there is no violence
And even those horses on fancy farms
Those retirement home wealthy
Find bones getting brittle
Brains too often damaged
There too they end up lucky if they feel
They really have a home
Dec 13, 2019
Dec 13, 2019 at 8:15 PM UTC
A horse without a fancy barn
Without stable hands to groom it
A horse perhaps on a modest farm
Or a poor family’s farm in winter
If lucky there’s a blanket some
Straw a tub of water
If lucky a few more horses
Warm bodies like your own
At least you have a place
A field to age in
That is unless you’re carted off
Slaughtered and then canned for food
What happens when a man grows old
Without a place to call his own
Perhaps without a blanket
Living underneath a bridge
Perhaps with others
Or alone
With luck a charity coat or jacket
Warms his back or hers
With luck there is no violence
And even those horses on fancy farms
Those retirement home wealthy
Find bones getting brittle
Brains too often damaged
There too they end up lucky if they feel
They really have a home
life, aging, anology, horse, homeless