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Ode to Pinkles
Pony of Spring
Sky-wish I may, upon thou buttocks,
Pony pink with long purple locks,
Standing there, image on skin,
And fly away with yonder equine kin.
You know no boundaries of feminine delight,
Woulds’t thy fragrance be of divine kite?
Dos’t thy footing hold thine sign,
Ode to thee sweet pony of mine.
Evermore, thy splendor shall last,
With eyes vivid as glowing glass,
For thou art my treasure of love,
My greatest passion, my life, my dove.
You, Pinkles, beauty untold,
Thou taketh my hand, eternal to hold,
Our love shall blossom as spring doth flower,
And fail to cease with summer’s first shower.
Magnificent pony of fairest pink,
I know thy thoughts of which thou think,
Thou think’st most of our torrid love,
Of our hands/hooves guided from above.