Halter and Lead

There’s an old faded halter,

that hangs in the barn aisle,

and no one knows…

the story;

The dust and fragments,

collected along the seams,

the scars of tarnish,

that decorate the buckles,

companied with a worn lead rope.

A tired life…

For that old halter.

Gifted from the farm up the road,

upon the imminent closing,

of their own beloved barn and stall doors.

Donated and handed down,

long after the loss of its last resident.

One old chestnut gelding;

who undoubtedly,

loved without condition,

without limitation and never transactional.

A soul that provided love and comfort,

to those who gave it compassionate quarter.

And now, countless years-maybe decades

-later.

That halter hangs proudly on my own barn wall.

Here I am crossing paths with,

a horse in need.

One who fits this old dusty halter.

A young bay gelding,

who undoubtedly,

loves without condition,

without limitation and never transactional.

A soul who provides comfort

to those who give it compassionate quarter.

Until we all cross paths with each other,

the few of us so grateful for hand me downs

and soothed by this common theme;

We are the rare few who see,

the hidden value,

in the old and faded halters.