She wasn't meant for the pasture.
To be a servant with a purpose not her own.
Although the fields suited some,
Her heart was ocean-rooted.
Stable doors and solid beams.
Shelter, but a prison all the same.
The barbed wire fence conspired against,
Her dreams of salt water waves.
Coat now grey and aching gait
An end that's guaranteed.
Final breath from equine chest.
A soul reborn in sapphire seas.