Bareback Phantom

By
More by this author
Through the woods we run,
The wind brushing at my face,
The pounding of hooves and my heart,
Following the whispers of desire.

The wind brushing at my face,
My horse's voice cries out,
Following the whispers of desire,
We race to leave the world behind.

My horse's voice cries out,
The pounding of hooves and my heart,
We race to leave the world behind,
Through the woods we run.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback