The Moonlit Steed

With a coat like spun moonlight, a creature of grace,

The white horse he stands, a legend in this space.

His muscles ripple beneath a pearlescent sheen,

A mythical image, a dream half-seen.

His mane, a cascade of flowing white strands,

Shimmers like snowfall in ethereal lands.

His eyes, pools of deepest blue, hold a mystical gleam,

Reflecting starlight, a luminescent dream.

He steps with a lightness, barely leaving a trace,

A phantom on hooves, in this moonlit space.

His whinny, a whisper, soft on the breeze,

A melody carried, through rustling leaves.

He carries no rider, his path his own quest,

A guardian spirit, where shadows find rest.

Across fields of silver, beneath the pale moon,

The moonlit steed wanders, a celestial croon.

So sing of the horse, cloaked in ethereal light,

A creature of magic, a mystical sight.

May he forever roam, where dreams take their flight,

The moonlit steed, a beacon in the night.