

Borrowed FreedomThe crunch of gravel, the smell of hay, I walk through the ancient stone door A welcoming nicker, a black head appears The stall door creaks, the metal on the halter clicks The sound of hoofs on the cold dark floor A dark gleaming coat, a swish of his tail He patiently stands as I rid his coat of the earth The polished saddle gleams, the old leather creaks A fire sparks in his eyes The gate creaks, rusty from age, On the other side a field of green and gold awaits I mount, he snorts, A glossy black hoof paws the ground, His neck arches like spring that has yet to beBorrowed Freedom
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Why do we fall?--
You can sail with me in my yellow submarine
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HAHAHA
hugs and kisses! bye!
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"I Ink, Therefore, I Am."
A member of the Loreena McKennitt Club.
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i want to be the girl with the most cake.
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