This little poem is dedicated to Lottie and to the thousands of other hard-working riding school ponies, who will never know what it is to feel the love of being owned by a special person.
We might have known you would not go easy,
small ginger pony, stubborn to the end
we watched the feisty breakdance as you lay
twitching and writhing to some inaudible rhythm
only you could hear. You made it clear
you did not choose to leave.
Then, even when quiet
your heart still kept the beat while bravely
you clung to life as we looked on
like part of some macabre peep show
we had not paid to see.
Dear Lottie -
forgive us what we did
we did it for the best
sometimes playing God sucks.