The two women struggled as they lifted the pony. The black and white pony that was stuck in the mud for a long while. As he lay there stuck, the black and white pony thought he may never know the feeling of human touch again. The smell of green grass after a summer storm, or the warmth of the sun on his back. “How long have I been here?”, the little pony wondered.
The Little Paint Pony
The Little Paint Pony
The Little Paint Pony
The two women struggled as they lifted the pony. The black and white pony that was stuck in the mud for a long while. As he lay there stuck, the black and white pony thought he may never know the feeling of human touch again. The smell of green grass after a summer storm, or the warmth of the sun on his back. “How long have I been here?”, the little pony wondered.