I wanted to name my little horse "Bareback,"

Because it was a name I'd heard 

Associated with horses handed down

Through several generations.

"I'll ride Bareback," Gramp would say,

And often after that, he'd talk about 

How his mother rode "Bareback" all the time,

And what a rider she had been.

But he didn't tell this memory

Because he'd seen her,

For she died when he was only four,

But those, and other few sparse stories

Were handed down to him.

My dad insists I ride with a saddle,

And when he has time,

He saddles her for me.

I am only seven now and cannot hoist it by myself.

He chuckles at the irony 

Of calling out to Bareback

To come be saddled.

But Dad doesn't know how much I ride her

During the day while he is gone.

I jump on her without a saddle,

Without a bit or bridle or reins,

And many times I think about my great great grandmother,

And her horse, of the same name,

Bareback.

-jenn