Will anything remain,
when use is no longer needed or wanted
and time becomes decay, stripping all,
so very slowly, from sight.
Can memory cling to iron and steel or
will it flake and drop, caught and carried
away by red brown rust fall.
Mastered once by hand and eyes,
cherished, cared for, yet devoid of
sentience, what strange pull we feel
for our soulless creations,
our steel horses.