The mustang raises his proud head
And rests it on top of the fence.
He had a far away look in his eyes.
What is running through his mind?
Was it the sound of hooves,
Thundering across the land,
Maybe he smells the coming of spring,
Or could it be the memory of a 3 year old boy?
A boy who would come every day,
Bringing treats of sugar cubes.
He’d reach through the fence and asking,
"Dancer, do you love me?"
The mustang would lower his head,
And carefully use his tongue,
And gently take it from the tiny fingers.
If the boy had no treat that day,
He would still lower his head
And hold it sideways through the rails,
For pats and kisses from the boy.
The mustang was feared by grown men,
But so loving to the little boy.
When the boy got older,
He could climb up on the fence,
The mustang was careful,
Not to push the little boy off
Taking the gift the boy would give him.
Then one day the boy didn’t come,
And then another and another.
The mustang didn’t understand.
When I would tell him why,
He only knew that his boy was gone.
He still carries on with his stallion business,
But his boy is gone.
If ever a horse hoped and wished,
This mustang did.
Maybe one day an old pickup will drive up,
The road and a young man will step out,
And walk toward the old mustang and whisper,
"Dancer, do you love me?"