i stood on the top of the world
imagining the white horse at my feet
cantering around the vale at midnight
neighing and wickering in the moonshine
ephemeral, ghostly, mysterious
the lone remnant of a people now forgotten
dead and silent as the hills spread before me
there i left a piece of my heart
the horse’s wild, unfettered beauty haunts
even now that i am no longer near
it draws me, and i longingly wish to return
to be free at the top of the world
as i gaze at the white horse beneath my feet
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