Or if we lived in Texas,
Way out there…on the range;
We’d see this every day,
And, we’d not think it strange.
But, here we were…in the city,
Although Gramma lived just outside;
Yes, and she would ride her horse,
Right along the roadside.
“Prince” was his name,
And, regal as a prince…was he;
“Prince” was well-fed and groomed,
He was as handsome as could be.
GRAMMA’S HORSE…yes, she loved him,
And, gave him the best of care;
“Prince” loved Gramma…too,
And, he’d happily…take her anywhere.
He would run like the wind,
His mane flowing in the breeze;
And, he could jump over logs,
With the greatest of ease.
They went everywhere…each day,
And, they were the best of friends;
GRAMMA’S HORSE and she…always together,
Yes, they thought it would never end.
But, one day Gramma awoke,
And, “Prince”…he wasn’t there;
Though she hunted back and forth,
“Prince” wasn’t anywhere.
Then, Gramma noticed tire tracks,
Leading right up to his shed;
Yes, someone stole “Prince” that night,
And, to their truck…he was led.
GRAMMA’S HORSE…he was gone,
But, for some reason…she didn’t worry;
She just went about her chores,
And, she didn’t even hurry.
Long about noontime,
We heard ‘clump-clumping’ down the road;
And, who came at a fast pace,
But, “Prince”…racing back to his abode!
Gramma…somehow she knew,
That “Prince” would get away;
And, just like a homing-pigeon,
He’d be back…without delay!
Yes, Gramma and her horse,
They were inseparable;
No one would ever try again,
To separate them…unthinkable!
July 10, 2004
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Aimee's Gramma Taylor on her horse.