My horse.

My horse.

Now my horse takes rest in his stable.
But once he was restless and nimble.
He ran as first as wind
and all other things stayed behind.

Sometimes I patted on his back.
He shook his neck and lifted one hind leg.
When I rode  on his back
It neighed lifting his neck.

When I whiped him
and he took speed.
Then he crossed lands, ponds,
galloping on the roads.

When we returned after a journey,
sweats were dripping like rain drops
but I never found him exhausted
and was always ready to take another speed.

Now he is wounded.
His weary  limbs donot support him.
He is subject to pity,sympathy.
Living in the world of apathy.