Mother and son enjoyed the painted horses and foals, <br />As they galloped up and down on golden poles. <br />Mother thrilled at this beautiful sight of joy, <br />Almost more than the experience, it gave her little boy. <br />Son grew older; more money came to his hand, <br />Her birthday was near, his eye said buy a painted fan. <br />His heart said buy something else altogether, <br />A music box with prancing horses, light as a feather. <br />Mother so enjoyed her young man's hand painted gift, <br />Until a drunken husband's jealousy became miffed. <br />The darkest of dark fury's came over the man, <br />As the man took the little horses in hand. <br />With greatest power little horses smashed into the wall, <br />If he had a thought, it was to get his son's gift and maul. <br />Immediately the deed was complete, <br />His drunken tears fell like sleet. <br />His remorseful thoughts were as ears in a field of wheat, <br />Or dreams of men and their lives left incomplete. <br />Father soon after repaired the little horses with great care, <br />With the horses in place music played so fair. <br />The horses began their joyful prance, <br />The family held each other in a joyful dance.<br /><br />R. K. Hart<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/painted-horses-2/
