The Christmas Pony

Dorothy and Shakespeare

In Beth’s dreams a pony white
Would dance and frolic through the night.
By day into her mind he’d trot
A fancy, floating, fleeting thought.
Sometimes upon his back she’d ride;
Sometimes behind a veil hide
And simply watch him prance and play.
He would be hers, she knew, one day.

Sweet dreams were fed by film and book
Black Beauty; Thelwell were the hook.
Her heart would beat with every stride
As through those pages she would ride
And feeling her young spirit soar
She’d only crave it all the more.
And then she’d pray with every thought
A precious pony would be her lot.

When traveling through the country hence
She’d crane beyond the farmyard fence
To catch a glimpse of the equine —
A fractured moment so sublime.
“Please stop!” she’d cry, “I want to see
The little pony by that tree.”
“There’s no time now,” her parents would say,
“We really must be on our way.”

And then at Christmas, filled with glee,
She’d sit upon dear Santa’s knee,
“And what for you, my little one?”
The jolly old man his question spun.
“Oh Santa, I have but one sweet dream,
The prettiest pony I’ve ever seen!”
Her hands they’d clap in sheer delight
“Can you bring one to me Christmas night?”

Santa’d heard this plea before;
Girls wanted ponies by the score.
“Sounds like a lovely wish, my dear,
I’ll do my best. Good Christmas cheer!”
Then from his knee she’d gently slide
In hope that she’d not be denied
The pony that, when he was real,
Some broken place in her might heal.

One Christmas morn she held her breath
Beneath the tree a big box marked “Beth …”
She opened it, her eyes all wide —
What could there be wrapped up inside?
A plush bay pony filled the box
With ribbons gold curled in his locks.
And then a note on paper red
Revealed a truth; it simply said:

“Your heart’s a window unto you
Whate’er you dream will all come true.”
Signed “Santa.” Beth was filled with joy.
Her horse a beautiful stuffed toy.
A symbol of the dream she held
That one day soon with life would meld.
Her dream was still alive; she knew
If Santa said so it must be true.

The years they passed; Beth’s dream lived on
Though it felt, at times, like it was gone.
Her heart’s desire seemed far away;
Life seemed to just get in the way.
But then one day out of the blue
A silver cloud came shining through.
A beautiful boy, a lovely bay,
Galloped into her life one late winter’s day.

“Can this be true?” Beth happily cried.
“At last a pony by my side?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck,
A steed to honour and protect.
Then thought of Santa, who long ago,
Had nurtured the seed so her dream would grow.
Her Christmas pony — a dream come true.
If it can happen for her, it can happen for you.

* * *

I wished for a pony for years. He finally arrived March 17, 2006 — 35 years, or so, after the first wish.

Dreams really do come true.

Merry Christmas …

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