Archives

My Riding Pal - The Mirror © - A poem by Mary Charlotte Shealy

Written by Chardy Shealy


Arena Mirror, standing tall,
Reflecting me along the wall:

Help my brain to grasp the fact
That what it tells me as exact...

Is not the truth, no not at all.

I look at you and know for real
My stirrups aren't the way they feel.

I could have sworn my head is straight...
It's crooked as my figure 8.

My elbows wing, My heels are up,
My back's inverted like a cup.

Last time that I was riding by,
I glimpsed my horse's outside eye.

"I'm in pain," he winced, "here's why.

"When you ride the way you look,
My hips and neck are very shook.

My elbows ache, My shoulders too.
My back-- no way can it come through.

"So, tell your mirror-pal for me
To ask your brain to look and see

That when you get the 'feel' precisely,
I'll move well, and you'll ride nicely."