My name is Ryder ~ that August day in Hell's Kitchen, I fainted, I worked hard, now my handlers rep is tainted, I was a carriage horse, my hooves clip-clopped the course, the city was a silver concrete master, confined in harness as I labored into disaster. My eyes were amber, my coat chestnut brown, My handlers knew I was an older horse on the streets of downtown, other horses still plodding in this damn arrangement, have no sweet timothy under their hooves, only pavement. I would sorely amble into my stall, as my fellow horses nickered to me they wearied of it all, we in the animal kingdom have our dignity, we have such tolerance in our benignity. Why can't my fellow equines kick up their hooves in a field? in autumnal chill with a squeal, after I collapsed they retired me, to an Upstate NY farm where I was finally free, but, I soon traversed the sparkling Rainbow Bridge, where I now happily graze on a heavenly clover ridge. ~