Mino

Oh my beautiful palomino mare,
With the lovely flowing flaxen hair.
We ran the green hills and flat yellow plains,
We ran the barrels with long loose reins.

You were a wily horse to catch,
A can of sweet oats met its match.
The rest of the herd longed for some,
But clever you, taught them to run!

My sister and I calmly waiting there,
With long wind-blown stringy blonde hair.
Hazing you into the corner of the pasture,
You knew exactly what we were after.

We waded slowly into Whitney Lake,
Inky clouds of mud left in our wake.
Jumped over driftwood, shrubs and ditches,
Fell on the pavement, tore up my leg and britches!

We rode thoughtfully through the woods,
There it was, I first understood.
I had dreams to travel and to learn,
I could not wait to take my turn!

I sometimes rode you to a lather,
I was young but should have known better.
I'm sorry I rode you much too hard,
I'd gently hose you off in the yard.

Oh my beautiful palomino mare,
With the lovely flowing flaxen hair.
In my mind you are in pastures of green,
Cool water near by from a babbling stream.

A faint breeze making your mane dance,
I wish I'd had just one more chance,
To kiss your soft velvety nose,
And stroke your neck before you go.

By Gloria Thomsen-Papaleo
Written for and as if told by my sister Cyndia and her beautiful half-Arabian mare, Mino.