His mane so soft like satin, his jumps so high.
He stormed through the meadows.
His lightining speed,tore the skies.
He endured pain, rain and cold.
He burned in heat.
A knight's virtuous heart he had.
That echoed, his master's name,
with every beat.
Gory conspiracies, sacrifices and wars,
he witnessed it and wept all alone.
Alas! he leapt away into the greens,
and came back home.
The tryst so euphoric,
Tears, revelry and more.
How he longed during the pursuit,
For the days of yore.
His master and he,
A perfect pair.
The tyranny of destiny,
chose to be unfair.
No more regrets,
no more remorse,
I say.
Salute the War Horse.
As heroes never fade.
