My Pony

This poem was the first thing I ever wrote.  I was 9 years old at the time.

My Pony

I have a little pony

His coat is silver gray.

If anyone tries to catch him,

He always runs away.

I haven't found a name for him

I hope I will someday.

I don't know what to call him now,

So how about Old Gray?

That doesn't sound very nice

And neither does Old Rusty.

How about Suncora,

Mandy, Bell or Dusty?

I think I'll stick with Dusty,

That sounds very pleasing!

Oops! I have to go now,

My little pony's sneezing!

I thank you all for reading this 

While I was thinking of a name.

You all are nice for doing that

And Dusty says just the same.