A Horse’s Sunset

With a glistening young body,

shiny trimmed manes, slender legs,

the colt gracefully cantered

into the glittering world of celluloid.

It grew into a steed, galloping

along dusty roads, sandy tracks,

with a gun-wielding hero

or a sabre-rattling heroine

astride on the saddle.

Its steeplechases were captured, 

flashed on sliver screens,

though sidelined by riders’ heroics.

Silently it carried another load:

the burden of its master’s livelihood.

And it went on, working overtime

till sore-footed aging years 

left it trotting down the slope

with awards of wounds

decorated on the skin and hoofs.

The old horse now drags its days,

tethered to a lone post, 

drinking long from a trough,

waiting for the last sunset.

Ajit Kumar Das