170×170 day 23 23.5.15


He rode on stallion white, mane dancing in rhythm to gallop
Looked like foam on wave’s crest.
Moonlight made them shine like pearl, wind played with them.
Too many miles to go before he could rest, his stallion was tired too,
So he slowed him down to a trot to give him the breather he needed,
Had he thundered past the place he might have missed it,
One vision that changed his life forever.
She stood there bathed in moonlight, her body fair seemed
Made of rays of moon, her silver hair was softly blowing in wind,
But her face and body were full of youth, to tell him she was no maiden
of human race, she was a creature of mystic land, maybe a fae.
His horse stopped when her presence it felt, mesmerized like rider.
He stepped down from the horse, the maiden turned hearing the rustle,
next second there was nothing left in that field but moonlight
she melted into it as if she was never there.


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