My name is Ryder, that August day
in Hell's Kitchen, NYC I fainted,
I worked hard, now no constraints,
I was a carriage horse,
my hooves clip-clopped the whole course,
the city was a brutal concrete master,
confined in harness as I labored
into disaster.
My eyes were amber, my coat a
dark brown,
I was an older horse on the
streets of downtown,
other horses in this strange
arrangement,
had no sweet timothy beneath
their hooves, only pavement.
I would sorely amble into my stall,
as my fellow horses nickered to me
they wearied of it all,
We in the animal kingdom have
our dignity,
we have such tolerance in our benignity.
Why can't we kick up our hooves
in a field,
in an autumnal chill with
an exuberant squeal,
after I suffered that collapse
they retired me,
to an Upstate NY farm so
quiet and free,
but I soon traversed the
sparkling Rainbow Bridge,
I now happily graze on a
heavenly ridge. ~
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