Old Filly

• Adela Zhang, Grade 5
• Poetry
• 2018

Alas, here comes my master
pipe in his mouth and whip in hand.
He comes with another cart to market -
to put the steel bit in my mouth and to
saddle my flank full.

I am Old - far older than a filly ought to be.
I am the burden of the stable for I fuss
though I have my reasons.
I am the shadow of the fields.

Weary am I, through to markets and back,
fretting along the gravel and whipped relentlessly.
At Master's stable, I nestle in my mother's cradle.
She's afraid - tells me Master makes me grow too soon.
Another day another trot the humans cling to their brute ways
so why not strip me of my mind if they so desire this?