Waffle

Out in a field
where 7  horses  play,
one special pony
is far away.

His mane and tail
are almost pure white
his soft, gold coat
glows in the light.

His eyes are deep brown
as he looks at me.
He whinnies, and gallops
he’s fine, I see.

I pet him with glee
and put on his lead.
However I feel that
this he doesn’t need.

My pony Waffle
had died one day
on a rainy morning
sometime in May.

He’s in a better place
really it’s true.
Rest in peace, Waffle,
I love you