Poem a day, Day #31

On a course, with my horse, a trotter.

Near a barrow, a shadow made of water.

He recoiled in dread, and bumped my head,

But at first I couldn't be bothered.

Upon return, I became concerned,

It's the silhouette of the cobbler.

A man effete, focused on feet?

What could this entail?

Madness ensues, as my horse issues,

A shake from bit to tail.

I fall from the reigns, reeling from pain,

to find the cobbler's entrails.

The silhouette you see, was he,

laying for a time.

All pressed into mud, drained of blood,

By some dark design.

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