I was only young,
when the old brown horse
turned up on some bombed-out land near home,
its big soft snout snuffling
over the fence searching for sugar.
I lived in a brown town
punctuated by red buses,
not a place for country creatures.
No sweet greens,
just scratchy weedy, unknown things
to graze. No dapples, just
blocks of shade.
Skipping to school with sticky hands
I stopped each day at that wasted land
where the horse shone
and softly took the treat,
then thanked me with a stroke
of his conker coat.
Until we knew each other.
He always waited and watched
at the right o’clock
and greeted me,
I named him ‘Horse’.
He knew me as ‘sugar lump girl’
One day the land was waste no more.
The builders came and built some flats
where old Horse once stood