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The Ghost and Her horse
Everynight in the dark she walks
Everynight in the meadow he neighs
She walks out to her horse
He raises his ghostly head, spots his owner
And neighs
Only true people can hear this frost filled noise
To her ear it sounds of peace and stillness
To people around it sounds spoky filled with wondering souls
Like the wind
Or the soft rain
Everynight in the dark she walks
Everynight in the meadow he neighs
The ghost walks with her silver hair blowing
In the pony tail that shall never change
She carries his halter in one hand her other hand
Hangs open ready to stroke his transparent maine
Down his silver back
Everynight in the dark she walks
Everynight in the meadow he neighs
The horse to his girl
They are still, his head and long neck
Rested on her shoulder, her arms around his neck
Running her fingers through his maine
The ghost and her horse.
poem
by
Bethany Maxwell
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