Invadarry

Eastern bound we tread in youth, To chase the break of day, But in the moors so fogged in mourn, The white horse blocks our way. Approached the equines eyes I did, In sleep they seemed to never sleep. The pale eyed beauty posed with pride, And us did to, in dream we were to ride. But in a desperate turn of fate, The sleepless eyes where now to sleep, The bog moors then began to haze, Turning the white one black. And thus, the end of my dear friend, But yet none did believe me, For in my eyes, Saw deathly skies, That equine haunted be. Through pouring rain, I seek that beast, To make the innocent see, I take the branch t