June's Rhymes
Oscar
He stood sixteen hands high, and he would fly.
I rode upon his back, as we went off the track.
Down the trails we'd go, moving none, too slow.
With the wind in my face, away we would race.
Freedom from my stress, he was the very best.
Carrying me with ease, Oscar aimed to please.
My palomino stud, running through the mud.
Beautiful in stance, he ran at every chance.
All muscle and tone, never a grunt or moan.
I think of him still, I probably always will.
Oscar you're the best, better than the rest.
I rode upon his back, as we went off the track.
Down the trails we'd go, moving none, too slow.
With the wind in my face, away we would race.
Freedom from my stress, he was the very best.
Carrying me with ease, Oscar aimed to please.
My palomino stud, running through the mud.
Beautiful in stance, he ran at every chance.
All muscle and tone, never a grunt or moan.
I think of him still, I probably always will.
Oscar you're the best, better than the rest.
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Oscar
Oscar
