Little Pony Little Rider

Such a tiny pony.
Black as coal,
Shimmering and glossy,
His coat beckons my fingers to caress it.
Thick and warm.
He nuzzles my hand with his velvet nose.
On his back a tiny rug and saddle,
And proudly sitting tall,
Feet in stirrups,
Reins held confidently,
A small blonde boy.
They turn and take their leave,
And 'bob, bob, bobbing',
Trot away.

Newcomer

Flecks of grey around the face reveal her age.
Her Stocky, round body is still sound.
Her feet tiny with perfectly rounded, dark nails.
Cropped hair.
Spiky fringe.
Dark eyes look into the distance,
Unfathomable, but not unkind.
We have yet to discover her personality.
All of her twelve hands,
Our new pony, Opal.