The Little Horse
It was a gift long ago,
And still I hold it tight.
I keep it close when I feel afraid,
I hug it when there is no light.
I never thought such a small thing
Could make such a big change.
But every night is different now;
They are no longer cold and strange.
I knew I named her once,
But now I can’t recall.
Whatever it may be,
It doesn’t matter at all.
By Catherine Joy