THE PONY

Driving in the early morning to a job I don’t like,
Each day I see the pony
Long and shaggy coat, brown and tan and dirty coat
Through each season he stands
In a square fenced in coral by the road
A leaning shed his only shelter
Head hanging each morning, standing alone
Each time, every morning, I pass, I wonder
All through the day, I wonder
Wonder about the pony’s life
Was he ever happy? Did a child once ride upon his back?
Did he at some time sport a shining saddle and a bridle with a star?
Was he a favored attraction at the fair, many squealing children waiting to ride him?
Does anyone love him now? Stroke him? Brush him? Murmur their affection to him?
Does anyone now offer a sweet, a crisp carrot, a kiss on the silky spot of his nose?
Or sadder still, was he always just standing in his paddock wondering all these things to himself?
While similarly I wonder, several miles away
Sitting at a desk, in a chair, head hanging, alone, hoping for something better

©KKW 2009