Colin F. Jones

LIFE FULFILLED

The hand of death gripped her heart
The pain of it tore her soul
Her eyes were strained as she fought
To bring life to her small foal.

Gallantly, she battled on,
Fighting, fighting,
Her strength near gone…

All the time her heart beat slower
Her feeble efforts were nearly spent
With every strain her head laid lower
But still this thing she’d not repent

Before she died the foal was born
She had fought and died in nature’s way
She’d been calm and yet forlorn
But she was content now where she lay.