As she draws the drapes,
she can't bear but to fall forlorn.
She falls and falls, and collapses on a cloud;
oh soft, compressible cloud!
Her eyes slowly drifted in comfort.
Alas, she sleeps
nothing to stir her;
nothing to wake her gentle forty winks;
except, a bray?
Oh, questions thee;
she rose to her feet;
she falls from the cloud;
and lands right on the damp earth, in a quantity of flowers.
Furthermore, she apprehends a rustle.
It is nothing outlandish, it is just a gesture to the muffled morning.
"Where do I wonder?" She pondered aloud.
Another rustle was heard, she examined the most beautiful sight as she turned a crook.
Twas Black Beauty? Deliberate again!
It was black-er then Black Beauty;
It was white-er then snow;
It was more beauteous then beauty itself;
It was a young girl's dream, come true.
Not a soul knows why the girl dreams of this horse,
all mortals know, however, that in each fantasy, she would be
stride the horse.
She would plummet off of it, every now and then, but she would defy gravity and float aloof the horse once more;
so gracefully.
She would canter until dusk again,
her fragile face, an angle on a horse;
she who is a happy one, nothing can stop her.
She smiles a broad smile, and flies off the horse.
She provides some grass for the famished horse;
she shows great interest in the animal;
she cares, too.
She decided to no longer trot on him, instead she walks.
They are side by side; like old friends who have not seen each other in a great time.
Soon, the skies began to sout;
she carried on about with her horse;
in her very own Mid-Summer Dreamland.
All of the words and pictures are property of Sam; DO NOT STEAL!
