Feeling the power of horse underneath;
Loping along at a leisurely pace,
About to feel the burst of a race.
The horse reaches out for a giant stride,
And you feel as though you are going to glide.
It is such fun to run and race,
Feeling the wind whip past your face.
Hearing the rhythm of hoofbeats fall
And the vibrating whinny of the horse's call.
The steady thumping of the horse's trot
Will make the sound: "Clippety-Clop".
The horse, so beautiful, swift and strong
Will make a sight as he's racing along.
He's ready to put on a burst of speed,
Due to a bucket of oats in his feed.
-Beth Ann Humphrey
Said the girl to her pony,
Whose name was Pepperoni.
"Oni for short."
Is what the girl said,
As she named that pony in her bed.
Moving along with the rocking lope,
She suddenly thought with all her hope
That Oni wouldn't stop to mope.
So ground, right then, had so much worth.
Dance around on two hind feet,
And soon, his front, the earth would meet.
"Neigh," he whinnied in a dash
Just then and there before the clash.
The horse's hooves sliced up the ground
So after that was no mere mound.
Instead, of course, was a hole
But that was not the horse's goal.
His goal in life was amazing,
As it was, to add, appraising.
The horse's goal was, 'course, to please,
But since he reared he was called 'Breeze'.
-Beth Ann Humphrey