Today I was reminded of a horse.
He was tall and dark, and he drew a carriage.
He was a working horse, but his family cared for him.
They call him Governor, or "Govy" fondly.
They even posed him for a picture.
He must have been a calm horse, too—
Standing dumbly, carriage at his back,
Snow bright and overexposed.
the picture shows him by my own house,
And I know just the spot,
But it looks so different now.
The shed is no longer painted white,
And that bush to the left is gone.
And as for Governor...
I don't know what happened to him.
I never met him in life—I could not!
But what I do know of him comes
in the form of a photograph,
Taken because somebody cared about him.
washed out and faded, in grainy monochrome.
The only color is from a red pen
scribbled in the corner:
"1901"
YOU ARE READING
Counting Down the Days
PoetryIt is the summer before I leave for college, and I am staring into the empty abyss before me, wondering what to do with my life. In this collection, I am challenging myself to write something every day (now adjusted to every 2-3 days). I may write p...
