Falling apples.

The green horse frolicked among falling apples.


Being proud and confident he held his head high.


Many hours were spent snuffling the ground in search of juicy red apples.

He could not resist prancing in the breeze.


Often he stood very still, listening for footsteps in anticipation of meeting his new Mistress, knowing she would love him.



(1960's sheath, by The Vested Gentress)