If horses were dreams
mine would be everywhere--
I'd have bays in my windows
and grays in the clouds.
There'd be reds fetching papers
and blacks 'neath midnight skies.
I'd have paints on my brushes
and pintos in my bowls
and palominos in my car
with their shiny golden foals.
There'd be chestnuts
roasting near a stubborn briar
on a hot day in the sun,
and my trail rides would last all day;
my work would all be dun!
You'd find appaloosas in my
orchard trees, cremellos in my
chocolate bars, criollos in my
crayon box . . . and when I roan,
you'll find me riding with the
whites in snowbanks
chilly to the bone.
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