One of my best friends lost her beloved mare Miss Scarlett last night. They hadn't been together long but they were growing a bond true and strong. Scarlett was a big, beautiful near black mare with a lovely white face. She had the canter of a rocking horse, and jumped with her knees into the sky. She came retired from life as a broodmare at a nice Thoroughbred farm. She showed serious potential to be a great eventer.
She was taken from us too soon. We can not understand why these things happen. Why they happen when they happen. All we can do is try and be thankful and keep remembrance for the time we had with them. To let them live on through our memories.
RIP Miss Scarlette, enjoy your new freedom in the sky.
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When the last eagle flies over the last crumbling mountain
And the last lion roars at the last dusty fountain
In the shadow of the forest though she may be old and worn
They will stare unbelieving at the last unicorn
When the first breath of winter through the flowers is icing
And you look to the north and a pale moon is rising
And it seems like all is dying and would leave the world to mourn
In the distance hear the laughter of the last unicorn
I'm alive, I'm alive
When the last moon is cast over the last star of morning
And the future has passed without even a last desperate warning
Then look into the sky where through the clouds a path is torn
Look and see her how she sparkles, it's the last unicorn
I'm alive, I'm alive