Gregory Myers


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Best Poem of Gregory Myers

Chance

Where do I start, this tale from my heart
Of a horse that came to me.
Aged and worn, a spirit torn
I fear this will not end happily.

He is old, is what I was told
Too few days left under the setting sun.
Cherish his time, he has past his prime
His days will soon be done.

His coat I guess oh what mess
Was supposed to be a rich and chestnut red.
It was matted and tattered
It was pitiful instead.

As thin a rail and just as pale
A spectacle at first glance.
I felt a threat when our eyes first met
This horse whose name is...

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