Play Horses

Remember

We used

To play horses?

When school

Finished

In the summer

Months

Of May-August

Our

Imagination

Would

Run away

 From us

A great

Torrid wave

Making

All the

Creative juices

In our brain

Flourish

In the

Morning

 Eating

Grey porridge

But in the

Afternoon

Technicolour

Came knocking

When we went

To play horses

Up in daddy’s

Day office

When daddy 

Was working

We’d have 

Fantastic

Excursions

Up, up high

Into

Space orbits

Before

Crash landing

To earth

In Japan

Iceland

Or dry sands

A desert

Remember

We used 

To make horses?

From wood

Taken from 

The Great Forest

You were scared

To venture there

But I

Strengthened

You with

“Take courage!”

The body

We would

Paint orange

And the head

Was usually

Beige

Altogether

They had

Much

Elegance

Like the 

Grecian

Architecture

Of the city 

Named

Corinth

The most 

Exciting part

Was designing

A race-course

For them

To face off

To see who’d

Take the crown 

Of victory

And go down 

In history

As the fastest

Race-horse king

Remember

They used

To neigh often?

And to quell

Their

Strange noise

We’d give them

Hot chocolate

And read

To them

The poems 

Of W.H. Auden

We were

Most proud

To keep them 

As raised

Orphans

For it was  

We who

Took them in

From their 

Fairy-tale origin

To the real world

A place foreign

The horses

Though toys

Were alive

With a beauty 

Uncorrupted

By age

Like

Gray, Dorian

Really, though

They were alive

Way more than

Objects

And

 Inanimate

Ornaments

For we gave

Them hearts

To be innate

For them

Thus they

Could

Feel emotions

And they

Were sad

And did cry

At the

Teary moment

An event

We tried

To delay

But it was

Inevitable

It was destiny

It was fate

Fortune

We had to

Let them go

So released them

In the sea

Or ocean

Where they

Quickly 

Learnt to swim

And so 

Became

Sea horses

And had

Adventures

Galore

But soon

Ten of them

Were lost

Feasted upon

By predatory jaws

They could have

Resentment

Towards

Us

But they

Should 

Understand

That

We hold

Them dear 

Remembered

In thoughts

At the end

Of the day

They’re listed

In the

National

Census

As offspring

It’s to us

Whom

Their

Ancestry

Belongs

But they

Reached

That age

Where they

Duly ought

To take

A measure

Of responsibility

And be brave

To weather

The brutal storms

Stirred in

The Atlantic

To which

They were

Carried away

We can’t

Actually say 

This is

A sentimental

And

Moving story

It’s not

Very romantic

In the true

Sense 

Of the word

The story

Doesn’t

Get any better

For what

Are now

The few

Living horses

For some

Got caught

At the end of

A protruding rod

By fishermen

Or in nets

And so

Disbanded

No longer

Can they be

Together

And uniform

Some were

Severed 

And shredded

Some were

Mercifully

Tossed

Back in the 

Terrible depths

Of the

Swooshing

Water

To be

Honest

When we

Think 

Of the

Questions

‘Who should

Be blamed

For their deaths?

With whom

Is this fault?’

We must

Begrudgingly

Nod our head

And say

‘Yes, the truth

Is it’s us’

But never

Again!

These days

We’re old

We soberly see

The imminence 

Of our death

But tonight

As I lay on

The edge

Of our bed

I wept

Tears of joy

The tenderness

I felt

For their

Presence

In childhood

We have an

Indelible debt

Not to

The horses

But rather

What we made

Was through

The God

Who gave us

Creativity

Imagination

Ideas

Emotions

And thoughts

Of which none

Is left now

We’ve used

Them all