Gracefully he flies about
as though with wings of gossamer.
As he chases the wind,
his outline becomes but a blur.

Beauty is his inner name;
deepest bay with glossy hide.
I approach him with reverence
and whipser, "May I have a ride?"

The majestic king raises his head,
then dips it to accept my request.
I rise to his back, so sleek and smooth,
and I cannot help but to feel blessed.

I ride the skies,
playing in the clouds,
though in reality
his feet touch the ground.

I slide from his back when we are done,
and amazement fills my heart.
I love this horse with all my being,
as I tell him softly when I depart.

Sarah Giers