Reverie

She loves to ride in moonlight on a horse of silver white,

With cloak of fog around her, through glistening mists of night,

And pause along the river, near springs that bring forth life,

By wild geese pillows sleeping in reeds along the rise.

 

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Now slipping from the saddle, she leaves the horse untied,

To graze among lush grasses on the bright moonlit hillside,

And settles on a stone bench where she most loves to write,

Away among the bright stars, where restless souls take flight.

 

 

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