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the word whisperer

Friday, April 29, 2005

The Stallion

A free spirit running the plains,
His hoofs beating on golden ground,
And leaving a trail of dust,
While racing to meet the unfound;
Searching for water to splash in,
Searching for towering canyons,
Thrilling at neighing of echoes –
His truest, closest companions.

Determined – his ears are pinned back,
His mane floats along in pure play,
His nostrils flaring in passion,
His massive legs pounding away.
The stallion, the sign of the free,
The brother of winds, waters, skies,
Symbol of Nature’s deep beauty,
A spirit, once loved, never dies.

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