all kept promises

day is summer’s horse, called Skin
 who’s smooth mane shines bright
 over my spiral horned cows
 and black faced sheep chewing cud,

 drags their shadows over fresh
 grass like a dark memory,
 ahead of cold night’s black mane,
 nuzzle foam flecks fall as dew

 as I recall yonks ago
 a promise I makes to boss
 of these riches and a blue
 dun stallion gallops pasture.

 My promise that if any
 other man than me or Boss
 rides this horse called Boss’s Mane,
 I’ll know, find them and kill them.

 I hires Lone Soldier, eldest
 son of my neighbour, who makes
 promise lad is hard worker
 and no flibbity gibbit.

 Everyday Lone takes my
 black faced sheep to safe pasture
 returns them come that evening,
 cuts fire wood, looks after Boss’s

 Mane and his 12 mares, I tell
 him about my promise, that
 he can use other horses
 for whatever, whenever.

 Lone agrees ” Very fair deal.”
 and promises to do his
 best, and pulls his rag out
 for whole of sweated summer,

 but one day, some sheep flit off
 he can’t find them anywhere,
 he scours fields for entire week,
 so ragged, he goes to the mares,

 to ride one to search yonder
 fields, but when he turns up, all
 mares scatter, only Boss’s
 Mare stand stock still as a stone.

 If he rides it his promise
 not to will be broken, if
 he decides not to, his vow
 to care for farm is broken.

 Lone ponders that to keep one
 promise must break another,
 reckons as sheep more valued
 and only way to find sheep

 is on Boss’s Mane, judges
 as riding him back in time
 I’ll never know about this.
 On Boss’s he finds lost sheep.

 returns all sheep to their place,
 doing his job as always.
 And as not needed Boss’s
 gallops all way home to me,

 till near my farm, I see him
 sodden with sweat, steam rises
 off his flanks like mist off a
 morning lake, muddy, panting,

 so I know someone has ridden him
 and it weren’t Boss, so I goes
 with an axe in search of Lone,
 and after long chat, I asks

 “Did you ride Boss’s Mane?” He
 couldn’t deny it, so tells
 me the truth. “Thas done well in
 telling truth. I would forgive

 thee but I’m bound by promise,
 and when promises are made,
 bound to be kept, as you know.”
 so I kills him with my axe

 make a decent grave for him.
 Lone’s father weren’t happy.
 Tha can’t break thee promises,
 no matter hassle tha has.

 night is winter’s horse, called Frost
 who’s rime mane darkens more
 over my spiral horned cows
 and black faced sheep chewing cud.

via WordPress for Phone app.

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