My white mare
My mare is my symbol for liberty,
white fur, black wings. Insanity.
In my dreams it takes me on his back,
riding through the night so black.
Out there, just the stars and the moon,
my mare, my dream and my doom.
I cannot fly, but this sensation is so real.
I like to ride into the wind, I like to feel.
Maybe, if you look in the sky with no cloud,
between the stars there is a mare, no doubt.
And when I am back and awake in my bed,
the dream has gone, that makes me very sad.
I cannot walk, my days are dying in this wheelchair.
I wish it would become true, my white mare.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Pierre Heinen.
Published on e-Stories.org on 10/01/2007.