Atstan Impressario
An Angelo Arab, you had immense spirit
dappled grey with a huge leap over fences.
Your stable name was Tom, pedigree name
too much of a mouthful for every day use.
In your stable you were a terror to my grooms
pulling faces and hunching up your back as if
to bite or even kick. It was all show you just
wanted to be left alone, a true one person horse.
No other could ride you as you would buck and buck
even going down and rolling to get rid of other riders.
Shoes could be a challenge as you would snatch feet away
or refuse to lift them up, only one blacksmith did you tolerate.
Yet to me and my mother you were so sweet, nickering
a welcome when you saw either of us coming.
You floated over fences winning us many rosettes
when turned out you would race down the jumping lane.
With Sheroake at your heels laughing with glee
you would go up and down time and again.
Then take delight in having a long dusty roll
finally settling down to graze the sweet grass.
Fast as a flash, the clock never a challenge
perfect rounds nearly every single time.
In one year you went from grade C to grade A
barely 14:3 hands tall yet heart of a giant.
You always held a special place in my heart
many the hours we spent together out riding
or practicing in the paddock, at dressage
you were a real ace act graceful as a swan.
Tom sweet Tom how I loved you
maybe the more as only I alone
on your back you would tolerate
your love made me feel so proud
Great spirit horse long may you race
the clouds where you now dwell
If I close my eyes I can still hear
the thundering of hooves flying by.
Never again was there a horse
quite like you. I remember your neat
little ears flickering back and forth
as I spoke to you, with a nicker you
would answer me and toss your head.
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