This Horse is unpredictable.
It gallops then trots,
This way, then that.
My trusted map turns out to be
Childish scrawl yet we climb through
beautiful valleys, lush with pines.
Abandoning thoughts of past & future
Illumined by the bright Moon,
I hum to myself,
- Squeeze its mane.
1 comment:
Fantasy at it's best- Real!
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