Zecora's Big Book of Zebra Legends

by swicked

Cold Little Mare

I recall one brilliant fall when sands ran cold and deep
She’d tight her shawl so cold would stall but still the wind would reap

But what she’d find in sand so fine beyond her small town’s wall?
Within a bind of earthen kind an egg so bright and small
She’d hold it fast to help it last and take it with her there
But what it held beyond warmth felt she never was aware

The mare was cold and lonesome, her village empty, poor
They’d sometimes give her scraps in summer but of those were no more
Her hunger pained with nothing gained though warmth helped her some way
The egg held close to help her most but hunger filled her day

Looking on the little egg she wondered if it’d fill
A cherished little life form, to leave it... had she will?
She fret and cried, felt dead inside, to think to do it bad
Finely decide, let it reside, last choice to make her glad

Her fading choice of mercy as starving soul would flee
It would be met with glorious bird which then, in turn, held she
Beyond the pale it’d carry, frail, the mare who’d passed away
Beyond the realms of darkness and into heaven’s day

Mercy can have prices, and horrible they might be
But what is right is worth it, of that you just must see
Though innocent might heaven sent by sticking such a creed
It’s resplendent and always meant unforgotten each good deed.