A handsome black paint
With one crooked leg;
Spirited dignity
And weakness combined. 

He nickered and whinnied
And refused to be ignored,
As he stood at the auction,
Awaiting the sale.

In spite his bad leg
And crooked feet,
He was too magnificent
To leave at an auction.

One hand up and
He found a home.
After one ride, 
His training was suspect.

He was a little bit wild;
A little bit stubborn;
Playful like a colt,
But willing to try.

Years have gone by now,
And we have been friends
We were too much alike
Not to give things a try.

His crooked leg,
And my broken heart.
He wouldn’t quit
And I needed company.

Paint has gotten older,
And I found my way.
He’s pretty as a picture,
I’m stronger than before.

Now he limps on that leg
but he won’t fail to try.
The vet says Paint has arthritis,
And it’s time for him to retire.

I put him out on pasture,
But he won’t understand.
He waits at the gate everyday,
And follows me everywhere.

The heart of a horse
Can’t give up without a fight.
If only humans had an ounce,
Of what makes the heart of horse.

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