Head Strong? Temperamental?
A challenge to control?
A man who has these foolish thoughts
Knows not– the passions of her soul.
This thoroughbred’s built for glory
She’s the pinnacle of Grace.
Every inch of her a wonder.
Of flaws, you’ll find no trace.
A man who wants to break her
Would destroy her sweet perfection.
Conformance to his puny will–
A grotesque abomination.
This horse should be a horse.
Not a docile pet to man.
She should live her full potential.
Run her race. Not fit his plan.
A man could maybe break her.
And a pretty pet she’d be.
But a thoroughbred in a stable’s
Like a ship without the sea.
If he wants to find true pleasure
With this filly bold and strong,
He must drop the whip and bridle–
See it’s to herself that she belongs.
A carrot and a sugar cube
A soft look in those bright eyes.
A whispered word: “I love you!
Run your heart out. You’re my pride!”
“I love to see you run my dear
Whether toward me or away.
To know you’re running for yourself
Is all I hope and pray.”