My Horse

My horse prances. And she dances, As she spins around She looks graceful And so tasteful Her hooves hardly touch the ground Her long eyelashes She seductively flashes As she lifts gently in the air Her thick mane flowing From a breeze that's blowing She dances without care. She is captivating. Her audience is waiting, For her to thrill them more. The horse is tiring The crowd desiring For just one more encore, A moment to ponder, As away out yonder, Voices are calling out They sound worried, Anxious and flurried, Then they begin to shout. "Daisy, where are you?" We have all been searching, Since a quarter past two We need you to come home, old girl, It's time to be fed. From the distance Daisy heard the call. What a time she had entertaining one and all. She curtsied to her audience, Then she made a bow. Then she said, "I am sorry folks, I have to leave you now, I hope you enjoyed my performance, I shall be coming back. I am feeling tired, I'm going home to hit the sack."