Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
He dreamt of
growing big and tall
and travelling from town to town
and riding on a
bucking horse
with cheering shouting crowds around.
He dreamt of
silver buckles bright
with shiny spurs and fancy shirts,
old showgrounds
where the dirt was red
and hard packed. Wondered - Did it hurt
when one was
thrown onto the ground
from off a bull or bucking horse?
He thought it
would but he was tough -
a little pain
par for the course.
He rode his pony
made of wood
around the paddock all day long
His Dad had
promised him a pony,
soon as he was big and strong
which should be
soon ‘cause he was four
and he had grown
an inch this year
he'd also ridden
Grandpa’s horse
and never felt a bit of fear.
He knew the horse
he wanted,
a sweet little mare coloured steel gray
with three white
socks and soft dark eyes
who he had fed
sweet lucerne hay.
Her name was
Silver Sovereign -
he’d told his Dad she was the one
and Dad had just said
‘ wait and see,
after the Rodeo my son.’
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