Sitter Poem by Ima Ryma

Sitting in the house, I see him.
He sits just behind the screen door.
In the shadows he does look dim.
But I know that he's waiting for
Me to make a visit so that
He does not feel so much alone
In Minnesota habitat,
The old farmhouse that he does own.
I know he wishes sometimes he
Could somehow change his circumstance,
And turn into someone like me
Who down the dirt roads loves to dance.

He's a fav'rite of mine of course.
He lets inside his house, this horse.