Carcass

Carcass

It lies there in the open field
Conspicuous and alone.
Vultures wait for the right moment
To tear the flesh from the bone.

"It's the circle of life, my dear,"
As a child I was once told.
Now the rotten leftovers stink,
And the carcass has grown old.

Only a skeleton is left here
From what was once a mighty steed
That mocked at fear and was not dismayed.
The first to die stand in the lead.

The steed was dying for many years,
Since your flashing spear pierced its heart.
Sore and aching it had lain until
It surrendered to your sharp dart.