I’ve always loved the way you try to
blissfully brighten all your clients’ days,
by saying hello and greeting everyone
with a gleeful grin,
despite the doubtful mood
you’re in sometimes.

You always make me smile
by jokingly teasing me, or
making ridiculous remarks about one
of the many inside jokes we share.

When I’m frustrated
with my horses, and
can’t figure out why
Roma won’t canter slower,
your presence calms me.

You’ve taught me many things about horses
and how to deal with the difficult things in life,
like what to do when your brother steals all your money
or how to deal with foreclosure on a horse farm.
I wouldn’t have learned better from anyone else,
and I thank you greatly for that.

But I can’t stay here anymore.

Even though I love you,
I can’t keep walking on
ice as thin as paper,
to avoid aggravating her,
your apprentice,
Odessa.

Her name itself,
shouts insults and
belligerent statements of
false accusations at
every innocent bystander, who
happens to be in her way.

She has you folded up in her pocket,
pushing,
forcing your clients,
who’ve always been there for you,
to fall through the ice and
choke on their words of rebuttal
in fear of her resentment.
She lies to you,
but you don’t see
what she is doing
to us,
what she is doing
to your farm.

Goodbye Mike.
I hope only for the best for you,
and please remember this;
I will always love you,
no matter what the future holds for us.
Thank you for being the best
trainer, teacher,
role model, mediator,
and friend,
I ever had.