by zikzik, age 15

I’m sitting in my studio.
I’m not sure what to do.
My model horses are curing
From the sculpting they went through.

I’m bored and I’m lonely,
But what’s this that I see?
A little plastic pony.
My eyes glint with evil glee.

So I search for my Dremel.
I look for my Sharpie.
“I’m gonna hack you up,”
I tell that scared little pony

“One day you’ll be beautiful
And forgive me for this deed,
‘Cause that mane’s got to go
And oops, well, there goes your nose.”

Once I’ve made the cuts,
Out comes the clay.
In time you’ll be a show horse,
No longer meant for play.

“You’ll roll with the big boys,
Not daunted by their size.
But even if you never win,
You’ll still be gold in my eyes!”

The clay is put away
And you’re put on the shelf to set.
Though you need no more Epoxy,
We are hardly done yet.

Next comes the primer
And sandpaper galore!
And then we primer, sand, and primer
At least six times more!

Now you are smooth,
No longer a child’s toy.
You’re very realistic
And you’ve been gelded boy!

Your destiny has come,
It’s time to face it now.
What color will you be?
This mystery furrows my brow.

I settle on a bay
Cause that’s just what I see
When I look at you.
What do you see when you look at me?

Finally the oils come out
And you’re gold, then orange, then tan, now brown,
And I’m cross-eyed trying to see
Then I smile cause your dapples really pop and make you look sweet.

Now there’s just but one more thing,
“Oh! You need to see!”
I seal you with Matte finish,
Then I go to work like a little honey bee.

At last I give you the breath of life,
A touch of clear nail polish on your eyes.
I’m happy you are beautiful, it’s time we realize
You’re ready for the show room floor, sure to win the prize!