A Story of the Unsung

A Story of the Unsung. Man, horse and cart wait at the railway station, picking up wares and delivering them to local shops. Every July the man and horse go on holiday to the country side, so his animal can eat fresh grass and trot about on soft soil, while the man sits on a stone fence smoking his pipe. A frosty day the horse fell on icy road, it was not the same after that, it was off its hay, lost weight, had to stop often, up hills, for a rest. The vet shook his head too late, nothing he could do for the beast. The man got a hand cart, tried to deliver parcels around, but could not push heavy loads; fell ill, took to his bed and vanished into blue yonder. There is a green field on the country side if you go there In July you will, on a misty dawn, when the ash tree is covered in gossamer, see a man sitting on a stone fence, smoking his pipe whilst his horse, grazes on green lushness. But you must go before the field is turned into a posh housing estate and fairytales die in the glare of street lamps and prowling patrol cars.