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A ride on Burney
Rob asked me if I'd like to ride.
Joy sparked in me as if a flint was struck.
I brightly smiled and nodded.
He set me on old Burney's back.
She smelt like old hay and dry grass.
She was so much taller to me then,
But maybe that was because I was smaller.
Rob took the lead and led her around,
walking up a hill then in a circle.
Burney's steps were so smooth and slow,
like a funeral march slowly going to a grave.
Each step, her back rolled up and down,
and up as she lifted a foot,
Like a wave on the open sea hitting a boat, was how it felt to me,
slowly rocking me as waves hit the boat.
She sped up her walk and the rocking grew,
as if a storm was brewing and the wind was stirring the water.
Then the steps slowed.
My joy left me.
Rob took me off, and my heart sank
lower than the dirt.
My ride on Burney was over.
I turned to leave and old Burney nickered
It rose and fell like thunder.
The old chestnut stared at me.
I liked my ride on the old sweet horse.
I wasn't so scared any more.