At the end of the race - when it's all over
Like a ghost haunting me, his presence will hover
Recovering from my shipwrecked self-esteem,
Still he will be there like a recurring bad dream
Many of those nights while my life was on hold
He cracked up the card games with stories he told
Sooner granting a leave for a mare bearing a foal
Than for a grandchild born (true - take a poll!)
In all of his years not a Wednesday was missed
Nor a chance to practice his testicular twists
Always winning his race - even if by a nose
An incredible career now comes to a close
When Bo is gone - to his precious stables
Retired and happy while I am not able
I'll remember the times, at my own expense,
I tried understanding or making some sense
Of his paling in anger at SV2 and Billy
Yet his glowing in joy at a new colt or filly
When Bo is gone (no "horsing around"),
No one will scream while labels are rewound
I'll forget his impatience with container complaints
For peeling labels and I'll call him a saint
When Bo is gone, guess we'll all be gone with him
That's a good thing - God forbid we should miss him!
When Bo is gone: Bye, bye, Bo!
Will I be losing a friend or a foe?
Who knows?...
...Bo knows!
©2001 poetheart