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June 23, 2014

 

 

Quite in a neutral

kind of way,

I met a horse

who was a Bay.

 

We shared the love

of solitude.

For his age, I thought him,

one cool dude.

 

His life so interesting,

it did turn out;

he’d seen the limelight,

without doubt!

 

Yet so much unsaid

through protocol,

which would have

involved Interpol,

 

had he spilled the beans

and broken the trust,

bestowed upon him

by duty’s thrust,

 

when he entered a life

not many Bay’s see;

the fact he had class

was obvious to me!

 

When I said I’d enjoyed

‘The trooping of the colour’,

his eyes glazed over,

his expression became duller.

 

I had hit a nerve;

a sensitive spot.

He knew I’d sussed out,

a life, he hadn’t forgot.

 

I patted his back and

stroked a tear from his face;

that moment of poignancy,

he held with grace.

 

And of a bond between us

we became aware;

from that day to this,

a friendship rare,

 

developed by such

an unlikely pair,

who in each other confide,

without any words there!

 

 

 

 

 

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