My Best Friends

November 15, 2016
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My best friend is not a person,
He doesn't even talk.
He’s my go-to guy,
That needs four legs to walk.

He’s a horse by the name of Sawyer,
Who is quite a big kicker.
My day instantly gets better,
At the sound of his gentle nicker.

He’s content to walk beside me,
Or be my noble steed.
He sails over jumps like a rabbit,
And gallops as fast as a bee.

I can tell him any secret,
And he won’t tell a soul.
Sawyer won’t come in unless I call him,
When he’ll chase me like a foal.

Nothing makes me happier,
Than to hug him and breathe in his scent,
Which smells like the freshest grasslands,
And trees that can never be bent.

His chestnut coat gleams in the Sun,
Like a penny in the light.
A star adorns his delicate head,
Which shines a brilliant white.

He’ll do what I ask when I’m riding,
He responds at the slightest command.
A nudge will send him into a mighty canter,
As if he’s the most powerful creature on land.


No, he’s not a hunter-bred warmblood,
Or a Thoroughbred that can run to no end.
I love him for so many reasons,
But most importantly, he’s my best friend.

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