The Plougher

For years he harnessed
The old horse
Then walked it off
To the field
Beyond acres of gorse
 
Then for hours
Both strolled
 The same acres
Of the field
As he guided
His companion
Dragging a plough.

Both experienced
Across the years
Weather of various kind
As they walked together
As if being owners of a mine.

But the only gold available
Were various vegetables
Especially spuds
Required
For consumption.

But time takes its toll
And eventually the old horse
Entered mother earth. To be
Later followed by his old friend. Rate this poem:(0.00 / 0 votes)