The present flows rapidly behind me, as hard as I try

To hold a precious moment in my tremulous hand.

It slips. It’s gone; I watch that golden instant slide away

In the rear-view mirror of my chequered history,

Adding to all the endless acres of slurry and mud.

Our past; the opaque, unfathomable morass

Of what once happened, and can never happen again.

All the happiness, ...

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Four horses were stood in a Care-Home field,

Sadly, chewing over the price of hay

And how much silage they ate each day.

“I used to inhabit a fine field of my own

With lush green grass, not rubble and stone!”

“Now we’re all stuck her in our filthy coats!”

“We are literally up to our knees in mud!

I’d complain to the farmer, but he’s no good!”

“Our foals ...

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