A Grooming Session

Scrunching her mane ‘twixt my fingers

I scrub away every small care

Lifting the layers of mud, dust, and dirt

Taking stress out on her hair.

 

Nickers so softly invade reverie

She lips at my pocket and stares

Her certainty of what lay inside

Wipes away all other cares.

 

Her marble-still stance, with ears perked and ready

so perfect and pretty and fine

I can’t hold anything back from this horse

My heart, and the treat, are not mine.

 

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