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A wooden horse looked through the window and sighed.
There were many real horses in the big field outside.
      'If only my legs were not made of wood,
      Then I’d enjoy life, as all horses should.'

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The horses looked back and thought: 'Isn’t he lucky?
We’re out in the rain and our legs are all mucky.
      He’s sitting in there where it’s cosy and warm
      And there’s nothing at all to do him any harm.'

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Three children came into the room with the horse.
They all played, they bickered and shouted of course.
       'If I could be them, I’d be happy all day.
       I’d play with my friends and happily neigh.'

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The three children still continued their fight
And said horrible things for nothing seemed right.
      'If my heart was not wooden, I’m sure I’d be kind.
        Horses are patient - they’re not like mankind.'

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It seemed that the children knew just what he thought.
They stopped all their shouting; their fight was cut short.
      'Let’s take our toy horse and play as we should
        With the one we love best - our horse made of wood!'

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Copyright on all my poems

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