Majestic extensions.
He's gliding on air.
His muscles they ripple.
We all stopped to stare.

He from Nebraska.
She knew right away.
Endless looking at horses.
Found the right one this day.

He danced for her.
His natural movement.
He danced for her.
Was an Equine Ballet.

Trailered him home.
Found what little he knew.
Could run to the left,
at speeds of mach two.

She trained him each day.
She flew through the air.
He didn't like learning,
and he didn't fight fear.

But finally came breakthroughs.
He started to pin.
Now going to shows,
he started to win.

He would dance.
His Equine Ballet.
He would dance.

There was some talk,
of him going Grand Prix
Was a race against time.
Yet it wasn't to be.

The years started flying.
He went up quite fast.
He getting older.
His prime might get past.

But he danced.
Float cross the ring.
And he danced.

The only horse on Earth,
I considered my friend.
We'd play our rough games.
Knock me on my rear end.

My wife never knew
I had taught him this thing.
Dressed in whites at a show,
he knocked her down near the ring.

She rose up and cursed me.
Whites covered in mud.
She yelled "What'd you teach him?"
Thought she'd draw blood.

Still he danced.
His Equine Ballet.
He could dance.

We spent twelve good years.
Our dogs loved him too.
He nuzzled them gently.
Love for them was true.

Always a good guy.
He sure loved my wife.
She'd always made sure.
That he had a great life.

And one day she found him.
Something drastically wrong.
He tried to stand up.
He no longer strong.

He passed away,
from this sudden illness.
In the barn it quite eerie.
He not there, the stillness.

He's somewhere better,
as he waits for she.
Someday back together.
He loved her you see.

As he waits, he'll dance.
In some other place,
He'll just dance.
His Tyler Ballet
and he'll dance.

We lost out Tyler on October 19th 2001. He was one of our family. he will be greatly missed. This poem is for my wife whom I love. God bless her.

John A. Newman