His weary obedient horse skipped its meals
And had no proper sleep for few days.
He checked the stable and found some horseflies cause to the sickness.
He cleaned the premises well
And everything back to normal.
But it neighs again; 'Master, still I couldn't win a race and you spent me a lot in vain.'
He said; 'Do not worry my dear Tattoo and I am sure that you will be the winner of incoming grand race.'
Though it showed its talent,
They say that the winner has to be decided from a photograph.
[ I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness......]
2 Timothy 4: 7-8 Niv
* A strong wind blows from Illinois hullabaloo to this rickety stable.
Fascinating. You are an excellent writer of satire. Write on. Kind regards, Sandra
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Another fine fable from your clever pen, Nimal. As usual your love of animals and sense of irony shine through your words. love, Allie ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥