THE Stallion

Back in time there used to be a meadow
Grass so very perfect as mowed thorough!

Lush green field it was
Served well to the grazing cause

It was surrounded
By woods with trees so high
As if they could kiss the sky

I am sure it was here that I had seen
A stallion on this very green!

The horse was as white as milk
Mane and tail flowing like silk

Spotless it was, But missed a horn!
Else it would have easily been an unicorn!

Riding it would be anyone’s pride
People will kill for that ride

Grazing was it with all leisure!
Watching it was mere pleasure.

Then with no warning it went away!
Still and melancholy I yet lay.

Then I realized weather was changing its show
As furious winds began to blow

Bent were the grass blades
Bent were the strong tress
Seems sustaining and straining were they
Until and unless the storm fades

The storm was indeed strong
Whistling it was mean and long

Slowly and gradually the trees caved in
One by one they fell on the green!
The morning scene was no more serene!


I realized now that stallion was sanity.
Once it left, the scene was like a bad graffiti

Now I figured out the storm was of modernization
Stallion was the purity which dwells in divine
The woods were erased by our own civilization!