Her name was Jasmine
but her mouth
was hard as granite.

She grabbed the bit
and ran like demons
were on her tail.

Her domain was the racetrack
until she was tossed aside,
a flawed, unwanted scrap of horse.

I taught her to waltz
to a music montage;
to swing with Shubert and Chopin.

She hated feeling trapped
so I left a window open
in the release of the reins.

When I whistle across glowing grass
and clover, she gallops to me;
the sunset shining in her mane.

Sunday Wordle prompt!  (written for all my friends who have rescued horses from the track and trained them in dressage)


25 thoughts on “Re-Purposed

  1. keeping your animals happy is prime objective for us owners….espec. if they have a sad history….your poem flowed so beautifully with great visuals

  2. Annette, thanks for your visit to my blog…… wolfdog died a year and a half ago and I still miss him dearly. I envision him galloping along the beaches of heaven, as he so loved to do on earth.

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