Midnight Mare
The wind again
Rushing into the pasture
Black wind
And the mare
The vigilante of the forage
She whispers life into the trees
A mare like death; powerful and absolute
A mare like midnight; entrancing and grievous
A mare like winter; soft and attractive
Such a beautiful filly
She calls out in such a thunder that you can't help feeling overwhelmed by her voice.
She is equitable, and soft
Pious and small
She is gentle
She is fierce
The lords dust bellows from the soil as she hits the ground with her common force
There's nothing special about this mare, but there's something unbelievable about this mare
I am fixated on her dark judgment
She is midnight, and she is gorgeous.
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