Ed was a black and white paint quarter horse.
He died around the age of fifteen years.
We cannot share his inner world, of course:
Such loveliness lies far beyond our tears.
He came to us beaten and afraid,
But in about a year he chose to love,
Never questioning the choice he made,
Nor from that passion did he ever move.
It wasn't mere acceptance or compulsion
That made him such a gentle, loving friend.
Some innocence of which we have no notion
Gave him a depth we cannot comprehend.
He loved us with a dignity and grace
We cannot hope to answer or replace.