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Harland had had enough
Twenty-three years of racing
Twelve years of giving children rides on his back.
Today his master said there would be no more rides.
They were giving him a good home. He fed him an apple.

Harland knew what kind of home it was.
He had heard about the "good home" from his cousins
Who went, and did not return in flesh form.
Only in spirit form. He nudged master for a second apple,
which he was also given. 

The so-called good home was no home at all.
It entailed making room for the new horse who
had been led into the next stall secretly last night.
That poor young horse that had no idea how boring his life was
going to be for the next thirty five years or so.

Because he knew his owner was not wise enough to
pick up on it, Harland stuck his tongue out at all of them
before they led him out to the woods. 
After the loud gun shot, he found himself in spirit form,
and was thrilled to see all of his cousins, brothers and sisters,
mom and dad by his side.

If he had known how wonderful the good home was, he
would have come a lot easier, and he would have never
stuck out his tongue. He began to race his cousins, flicking
up his tail, energetic, and proud, young again, and loving life!

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