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: 

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