A conversation... how it has always been.
I remember quite distinctly, the way he looked whilst standing there,
The whites of his eyes showing, his wild mane - all matted hair.
I was young myself, thought at the time I felt pretty old,
Which was probably why I said "I'll ride him" - feeling pretty bold.
She said, "you can't wear that yellow rain jacket, he'll spook and run,"
& in the pouring rain I took off that jacket and began to think... this wasn't looking like much fun.
The old saying, I am told, is green plus green equals black and blue,
And here I was feeling greener by the minute - that I knew.
That horse balked and stalled on me at the base of a very large hill,
I pleaded with him quietly, I thought, here's the time, I'm going to get myself killed.
Somehow we made it up and back down and home still whole,
My chest puffed up as I recounted how he never did buck, balk or roll.
People commended me - that I could ride such a wild renegade - in the pouring rain and all,
And I smiled - how could they be so silly, of course I didn't fall!
But looking back now I can't help but think that gelding was behind me with a glimmer in his eye,
Because to say he couldn't have turfed me - well that is quite a lie.
But perhaps for that horse a quieter, green little girl was a heck of a better deal,
Than a punchier cowboy with a stricter, harder type of feel.
So in the end that horse was smarter than he ever did let on,
Because now all these years later, he is a very well fed decoration that hangs out on my lawn!