Mare
A feeling, a fluttery
whimsical feeling,
shot through my jaded soul upon the
sight of the mare.
Her crème coat is sliced
and sprinkled with jagged
ribbons of scarlet,
and her eyes linger on me.
This exquisite creation
observes from afar off
paddock as a fascination
tugs me closer.
She wants to speak with me
the thought does not feel like my own
and a voice from behind
frightens me back into reality.
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: