Filippa and Fred
Filippa loved her bright-eyed horse.
His name was Fred, his mane was coarse.
They galloped back and forth to school.
When shoes got loose, she’d use a tool.
Filippa’s Fred was loyal and fine.
He was sixteen, and she was nine.
Swedish, they both loved life.
She played a flute. He played a fife.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2019
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