With a mahogany coat and wind flowing through her mane,
She's a picture of beauty, Whisper is her name.
Her canter is as if you're floating through air;
So smooth, so flowing, as the wind combs its fingers through your hair.
You cannot tell her age by what she can do,
But sit back and watch as she jumps and does dressage too.
She understands me and I understand her;
Something deep down tells me we were meant for each other.
She responds to the slightest whisper of an aide;
The reins, your legs, the slight movement made.
She's a Jack-of-all-trades horse I guess you could say,
I'll tell you what all she can do, if I may.
Jumping, poles and barrel racing,
But my favorite is chicken chasing.
She's my favorite horse I can proudly say,
And even though I'm allergic, I love to give her hay.