Colonel was our pinto pony;
That we had when we were small;
He was a lot of fun to ride;
When you could catch him in his stall.
Colonel taught us how to sit,
And hold our hands and knees;
We had to learn this quickly,
Or he would scrape us off with trees.
Whoa!…was not a word that our Colonel seemed to know;
At least not when it was said;
Cause he was a quick-stop artist;
When he wanted to launch you over his head.
At Halloween, Colonel was our witch’s broom;
At Christmas… Santa’s sleigh;
The rest of the year he was teaching us horsemanship;
Or opening his gate and wandering away.
The horseshow was a special place;
Where our brown and white pony was a star;
He competed with distinction;
Even though he spooked at every dog, horse, trailer and car.
Colonel was our first pony;
He taught us all we know;
And somehow we lived to tell the story;
He was a special soul!
Posted by Victoria Brittain.
