Mary Pratt and all that.

Mary Pratt was a fine lass

who had all the accoutrements

one could desire.

To  a colt the dressage was a bit much,

the bows and pretense too.

But as the sands began to filter through

the aperture narrowed and began to coalesce.

It was time to reassess this whole emotional mess.

Now the clock struck ten P.M. far too soon

and clearing throats resounded,

this adventure to another day

another time.

Old Mary now still waits,

hurry horse,  no time yet to imagine.

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