Precariously Placed Pony Poems Picturing Plenty of Pheelings

Big mac sat in his dress
The music in his room
Provided relief from his distress
With its slow and deep boom

Vinyl Scratch had given him some records
Slower then her usual fair
Vinyl said, "Music has its own rewards."
He swore he saw her blink behind her eye wear.

He began to slowly tap his feet
The curls of his wig bouncing in time
To the musical beat
It was truly sublime

To have his weekly private time
To feel normal for a day
He began to pantomime
The music bumped forte

The door closed with a slam
His wig ruffled into a tuft
Apple jack stood at the jamb
She simply huffed

Big mac was worried
His sister wouldn't accept him
He felt so hurried
He'd missed her hugging his forelimbs