Who would ever think

grey could be so beautiful,

disdained in cobwebs

and hairdo's,

yet in vast splendid wrinkles

it stretches across

your girth which

inspires my muse.

Just a huge beast of burden

who must bear the brunt,

of your three tiny acres caged walls

sweet memories of freedom

will haunt you until

 
you trumpet your last wailing calls.

I am drawn to your eyes,

lashed so lovely above,

orbs tinged with the sorrows you know,

as I feed you some grass

in a tight-fisted sheath,

to your trunk full of memories below.