Ain't What He Used To Be

The old gray, he ain’t what he used to be.
Was a time he was the fastest
Horse around.
He could hold his own in any herd.
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And he had been with many a herd,
Bought and sold many times.
Gilded as a colt on a Tennessee farm
He never became alpha.
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But he ran high in the ranking,
Fighting for his right to eat
Where he wished,
Except for the boss mare they left the grey along.
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He did his stitch as a rental trail horse,
For years he carried riders,
Knowledgeably and not,
Eight hours a day, seven days a week.
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He had his pards
And he made his enemies.
Mostly life was good
Clean water and good pasture.
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All his life as he moved from herd to herd
From pasture to pasture,
He had traveled in a stock trailer
With ten or more horses.
~
He noticed that for a time
He carried only one rider,
None other straddled his back,
Or put tack upon him.
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This rider fit him well
Together they rode the trail
Up and down the renters
Along side the path.
~
Keeping them in line,
Setting the pace
All day long,
Ride after ride.
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In the Morning he recognize his rider,
And with a nicker
He walked up and put
His head down to be bridled.
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Days became years
Riding through the hills
No better way to spend a life,
Man and horse together.
~
But things change
And they did again.
A two horse trailer skerred
The kajeebeas out of him.
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No way, no how
Was he going in that thing!
No room to move.
Too dark to see.
~
No think you please,
I’ll just stay where I am,
But the rider would have his way
By the end of the day.
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He spun around
So he could see where he been.
Amazon sight to see
A horse turning in such a small space.
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They traveled for hours and hours,
His whole world became
The shifting, shaking, bumping
Of the trailer.
~
He swore if he ever got out
He would never get back in.
At last the trailer stood still
Not to move again.
~
Out into the pasture he lives now,
The Gray surveyed
His new home,
Spying the hay bail right off.
~
Been a rough ride
But his appetite was intact.
He commenced to munch
Before someone took it away.
~
The years came and went
But the Gray stayed
He did learn to go back
Into that dreaded trailer.
~
All day he had fought his rider
Before he stepped foot in
That blessed thing
Again.
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As soon as he went in
He was left right back off
Maybe not so bad
So he tried it again.
~
Again and again
He has been on off
Trailers of all sorts
He is an old hand.
~
Going on rides, and to shows.
Always water and hay
And some grain at
The end of the day.
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As time went on he noted
That his rider rode him less and less
In favor of the big Buckskin mare
While he carried his rider’s companion.
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Now 35 years old
He never leaves the pasture
Any more.
He gets is special feed.
~
But he has lost all his rank
Low man on the totem
He now only fights
To be left alone.
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His only pard
A mule colt
That loves him like a papa.
And is always by his side.
~
Sometimes, when kids come over,
He is saddled up to carry them around.
A far cry from when he used
To carry his rider at a run all day,
~
But with dignity
He does his job
And very careful of his load,
After all, he ain’t what he used to be.
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©
Rexx