old horses chasing the carrot

  The old horse peered back,  knowing full and well his blinders prevented him from seeing them,  still he thought he might catch a glimpse.
  who was it this time,  would they strike his flanks and yell,  would he feel the bit and bridle, pulling  against his will.
 years had taken their toll on this old horse,  know longer were his muscles sculpted,  his hooves were cracking from age and abuse.
  the rigging he had grown accustomed to, now left wear marks over his rump and along his ribs
 the straining against heavy loads,  well,  hills were not on his agenda anymore
  he revisited his youth when he was a colt,  frollicking in the meadows of youth,  carefree and ambitious,   even the that period of time when he was a saddlehorse, how he enjoyed the pleasure riding.
  Mere memories,  now his days were consumed pulling this carriage,  slow and steady pace,  dependable, every so often breaking into a trot, when the whip met his backside.
  He only knew the one direction, straight ahead,  his blinders kept the rest of the world at bay,  all he could see was miles and miles of pavement.
Up at the dawn, fed, harnassed and back to the pavement, home at dark, fed, then off to a dark, dank barn of existence.
 
 this old horse will never run free again,  never gallop through time, never spook from what happened at the side of the road, doomed to pull straight ahead til death sets him free,
 
  reflections of what might have been haunt the old horse, as a young stud, he showed promise, virility, stamina, good coat,long thick mane and tail.
  those were good days,  the pampering and petting,  good sweet feed, lush hay for the taking, a curry comb massage to make the days hurt and sore spots fade away
  age took his pride, took his will, now, all this time has passed, now he longs for the curry comb massage, now he marches straight ahead
 chasing, no, plodding after the carrot on the stick, just out of reach,just as they had planned it
  some day the harnass will rot, someday, the sting of the whip will make him bolt, someday he wil be free, set loose on this world he had watch slip away
  someday, he would be gone,  someday dust would be all that remained
  from one old horse's mouth,  relish in your youth, enjoy the frollicking, hang on to your pride,  if not, you might have a life like me,  chasing/plodding after the carrot