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Woken by shafts of light through curtains barely drawn, hours earlier waiting impatiently for the dawn. Hurriedly dressing, combing hair….: tumbling down the stairs. Leaving the house quiet as a Church Mouse.

Crossing the fields, the heavy dew making my boots squeak. Silhouettes of trees dotted along hedgerows, leaves of red, orange and golden brown. Breath warm on the cold morning air, labouring on….nearly there.

You raise your head as I approach, the early morning sun bathing you in its warm amber glow. Gently running my hands along familiar curves, your coat soft and sleek as silk, hair shining fiery red, copper brown.

Autumn leaves tramped as we walk along the lane, enjoying each other’s company….: alone once again. Through the village inhabitants stare….: at you….: my beautiful Chestnut Mare.



  1. adamigo

    I just love your poems, Breda, they’re so athmospheric! You also played nicely with the topic.

    • Jaroslav Suchý

      I really like the context…

    • breda ware

      Thank you, I had fun writing this one.

  2. Veruka

    I agree with Adam, the atmosphere of the poem is absolutely amazing. 🙂

    • breda ware

      Thank you, appreciate comment

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