She toils through the day,
Without a word or a nay,
She earns her daily bread,
Not a tear does she shed...
Plodding the streets with heavy horseshoes on her feet,
Never a whimper in the cold or dizzling rain,
Heavy loads hauled and pulled and ploughed,
She was once queen of the roads, fields and waterways,
Now she sits in the field looking at the sun in between the clouds,
Retired but still called to duty on special days.


© Mark Antony Raines