The Old Mare 'Rose'

The old mare is weary for trying to survive.
Thick, solid muscles have turned into bones
With a thin coat of tired flesh.
The atrophy of her muscles has settled on a body
That longs to die to ease the pain.
The flame of light and life long ago left her beautiful, dark, liquid eyes.
Her spirit is broken.
I ask the owner "Why aren’t you feeding her?"
He gives me an arrogant, stupid sort of reply
That does not even merit the space to write it down on.
But Rose and I have a secret.
She will eat today and every day that I see her.
She will not go hungry as long as I am around.
4/30/07 CMH