This is my horse, Prince.
He took me to far off lands, over snow covered mountains, through misty valleys and shimmering forests.
Sometimes he wore a crown of silver, sometimes a cape of gold.
And at the end of each exhausted day he would stand guard outside my bedroom door.
Prince is old now. He leads a quiet rocking horse life.
But one day, the light will return to his eyes.
A child will gather the reins.
She will take his long white mane in her hand, lean forward in the saddle and cry,
‘Away, my Prince. Away.’