He'd come to me when e'er I called him, and on my shoulder, his head he would rest, I'd put my arm around his strong neck, and I'd stroke his smooth broad chest. His dark brown eyes would be glistening, With love for me, of that I am sure, And his soft cheek when held against mine, Spoke volumes of a love that was pure. His lips were soft like pure velvet, when e'er he pressed them to mine, And oft I could feel his heart beating, Beating, in unison, with mine. Summer, with its glorious warm sunshine, And the days that seemed ever so long, We'd race over brown grassed meadows, flying, like notes from a song. In the autumn with golden leaves falling, Among the tall trees, we would roam, And I still can hear the crunching leaves, Beneath his feet, as he ably carried me home. Winter, with it's virgin white beauty, The ground covered with crisp fresh snow, To the hilltops we would travel, and marvel at the scenes below. Then spring, wonderful spring! When all things look sparkling and new, We'd carefully walk among wild field flowers, Their little faces, all covered in dew. And so the seasons' days came and passed, and I shared them each, big and small, With my one true love, my only love, With 'Red,' the best pony of them all. An original poem written by Sam Martin. March 28th.2001. Written for, and dedicated to Leslie Gustafson in memory of her first horse, Red.Birth sign: Capricorn
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