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When I was eight years old, Nancy a stringy-haired blond, chose me to be her playmate.  She idolized horses and always played "horsey" with me.  Since I didn't know a horse from a dog in those days, the game was mostly Nancy acting like a horse and me standing around like "a bump on a log," and watching her prance around.  She knew all the horse sounds too and what they meant:  the neighing, nickering, snorting and sighing.

recess
kids swing laughing at us
bell rinngs

She was a gifted artist recognized for her drawings and one of her horse portraits won a regional contest!  She also wrote poetry about horses--strikingly good for a pre-teen   I never forgot her even though our friendship waned as we got older.  I would write her a sonnet years later.  . .


well endowed
older teen boys chased her
for a feel

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