Last Friday, we went to the Ink Spot and got a tattoo done.

I say “we” even though it was Ghost who got tattooed.

She now has my words – or a reference there-too – inked into her wrists.
The words come from a poem I wrote for her… gosh… early-mid-March, 2010, if my math is right.

When we first began our service arrangement – back when it was just a service arrangement – she commented to me that I seemed to be reacting to the arrangement a bit like I was sitting on a horse, with broad meadows and green hills stretching as far as the eye could see, and thinking “Wow… This is pretty cool… I’m sitting on a horse!”

Which was remarkably apt, let me tell you.

Consequently, “horse and rider” has been something of a metaphor for our relationship, pretty-much from the get-go.

I (foolishly) have managed to misplace the poem I wrote for her (having carved it into her chest back in March 2010, the actual paper-copy has since gone awol), but the poem goes approximately like this:

green fields stretching wide
wind dips low, long grasses stir
What is an amazon
without her horse?
You are mine
my horse, my servant

My horse, My servant