The Nice Mare Poem by Denis Martindale

The dream began, unfolding night and scenery unveiled,
Drawn like a curtain bringing light, as if the morning hailed...
And there, before my sleep-filled eyes, appeared a pure white horse,
All saddled up that I might rise and ride it, then, of course...
I heard a voice explain to me, the nice mare had a name,
Her holy name was Bethany and service was her aim...
Obedient in every way, not selfish, prim or proud,
Nor like a horse that's prone to stray whenever it's allowed...

The voice explained that from a foal, she learned life's lessons fast,
Such that she only had one goal, to bless from first to last...
So I stood next to her and smiled, then rode across a field,
Her gentleness had me beguiled, no subtlety concealed...
The voice explained a little more, 'Keep this horse as your own,
Don't sell her though you may be poor, she's meant for you alone...
Look after her as if she's gold, or sunshine honeydew,
As if her story must be told next to your story, too...'

When I awoke from slumber's rest, that dream stayed on my heart
And even now, through this I'm blessed, as if it's played a part...
As if the nice mare proved to be the standard I should seek,
God's servant for eternity, not set times in each week...
So if you hear that I've been good, some service to express,
I've only done something I should, like Bethany, I guess...
One fine example changes things, like hers which was supreme,
Of all the gifts that God still brings, I thank Him for that dream...


Denis Martindale August 2016.