My Shiny Horse

I slide off of my horse's back

I pull her into the stable

I get ready to rub her down

she's like a surface,

like a smooth silk,

in the softest embrace,

inviting my fingers,

a gentle,

tender chase,

smooth as polished glass,

where beauty begins.

A river stone,

weathered by endless streams,

her body like dreams,

in the moonlight's gleam.

I touch and stroke

her soft smooth neck,

I stroke black silky flesh.

A sensation of smoothness,

so finely detailed.

My horse,

she craves

my smoothing strokes

her relaxed body

calms and slows

her breathing

smoothly evens

getting fresh

as the cold seeps

into her skin

making sure

it is soft

as her kin.