Synaesthesia Magazine Seven Deadly Sins - Page 63

She stood tall, elusive, proud

I almost felt ashamed to trap her,

hooking the brow band over her ears,

her mouth, bidding, she bit.

Clasped the straps across her cheeks,

she was willing, quiet.

I ran my hand along her neck,

gracefully, she bowed her head

for her head piece, crown.

Her withers twitched, routine,

ready for her panel

waiting for her seat.

I fumbled with the leather,

she waited patiently.

I secured her stirrup

let her reach comfort.

Her ears cocked forward

her tail flipped,

she knew I was almost done.

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