This poem is dedicated to PoolBoy - the oldest of the bulls

It's funny we should be stood here young un.
This very spot, upon this hill.
For this is where yer grand pa brought me.
To teach me of lifes thrill.

Looking down over those green pastures,
The ones you see below.
He taught me that speed isn't always right.
There's times to take it slow.

The slower route may not look tempting.
You may want to run ahead,
But sometimes it feels much better,
To take it slow instead.

I laughed at your grand pa's words,
And raced down through the trees.
Shooting across the greenest of pastures.
Creating my own breeze.

Now I understand what he meant,
When he shared those words with me.
For I have become the old bull,
So I know what it is you see.

His words truly were of wisdom,
Full of the knowledge of his days,
But advice isn't for the young,
They're consumed by lifes blaze.

So off you run young un.
Through the trees you flit.
I'm just gonna take a slower route,
I'll meet you in a bit.