Tracks in the Snow

Our pony is lost,

once a body, now just frost.

A loss we have all had to know,

yet your too young, so I leave tracks in the snow.

The strange lost pony,

gone to the snow.

I can't have you feel lonely,

I cannot have you know.

The lost pony's body, we buried right here.

Too young you are hon, to have death yet to fear.

So the lost pony becomes an emblem of a great trip.

And you may know him as such, and on faith keep your grip.