Pony Musings

I liked you from the second I met you.
Back to back we sat, strangers at first,
surrounded by serene blues, still water.
In untainted white robes, clean and new.

A place of bubbles and smiles and giggles,
where ponies go to unwind with friends.
But they all go after a hard day’s work,
of being honest and good and kind.

I went there alone, sat down on my own,
always an odd number in an even place.
My usual routine, to be treated for my guilt.
Pampered, polished, scrubbed, shampooed,
as if I myself weren’t a stain to be removed.

And no matter how much I am washed,
how pretty the sweet ponies do me up,
how many of the fresh robes I’m put in,
at the end, every time, I remain myself.

I saw it in the mirror, saw it in the water,
saw it in the faces of everyone around me.
Then one day I saw it in myself, the truth.
Not so great and powerful as I had thought.

But that day you started talking to me,
because you came on your own too.
And it was there, in that flawless place,
you admitted your hooves weren’t clean.

I liked you from the second I met you:
you were everything I was,
but I loved that.