The Trophy Drawer


Joined March 2010

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Wall Art

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Artist's Description

This is a capture of my old trophy drawer and a poem I wrote dedicated to the memory of my first horse, Shiloh. The verse is a rather long read, but those of you who have had a special horse in your life may relate. I have to say the tears were streaming down my cheeks as I wrote this verse. Warning, it may make you cry too. :)


A cold winter day,
Dark stormy clouds,
And a scent of
Snow in the air
Meet me
At the doorway.

When I reach
The tack room,
Excitement stirs
Throughout my body
And my spirit.

I slide open
The special trophy drawer.

My fingers caress
The satin ribbons.
Some are soiled,
Faded and worn.
Others are shiny,
Almost new,
A rainbow of colors,
Collected in a dark drawer.

I go to the stall
And greet my companion
Of fifteen years.

A beautiful dark,
Mahogany coat,
Is gleaming
In the soft

The gray muzzle,
And the age
Of my beautiful friend,
Hidden in the dim light.

She knows
Today is special.
She can sense
My spirit soaring.

We are one
In our excitement.
Something important
Will happen today.

I groom and tack
With serious care.
Today will be
A special day.

Most days are spent now
On quiet hacks
Up mountain trails,
Scented with hemlock,
Quiet, dark and mysterious places
Filled with mountain laurel,
And rhododendron.

But sometimes,
We both remember
Our younger days.

Those were days
In the arena,
Sailing over fences,
Cantering the lines,
Intense concentration,
Pride in victory,
Acceptance of the losses.

“Soft eyes” for me
Are easier now.
Everything is a soft blur
Without my glasses.

My partner’s eyes
Are soft quiet pools
Glimmering in the light.
Age has not taken
All their sparkle.

We enter the arena
Working quietly,
And calmly,
Warming up, longer
And slower,
Until old muscles
Find their memory.

As we canter
Our first circle,
Before the first fence,
She knows now
That this course
Is important.

As in show days,
This will be
Our best effort.
We will ride
With harmony
To victory.

Her ears are up,
Her body strong,
Her canter rhythm,
The course is done
As memories flow
Through both our hearts.

Other days,
Other arenas,
Crowds and competition,
Do not compare
With the ride,

Today is ridden
With all the precision
We can give,
A lovely way
To remember the bond
We have shared
All these years.

One trip is enough now,
Around the course.
Spirits want more,
Bodies say no.

Now it is time
To find solitude
In quiet, dark,
Mountain rides,
Sharing what is left
Of our beautiful years,

Artwork Comments

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