Still in the golden afternoon
Though leisurely we glide;
And both our oars, with little skill,
Rowed little legs, with pride,
Like little tails make vain pretence
In wandering, to guide

Glimmer! A foalish story take,
Held with a gentle hoof,
Take it from where Foalhood’s dreams are twined
Gone from Memory’s mystic proof
Like pony’s wither’d wreath of flowers
Impelling dreams of far-off youth

Meet me after days gone by,
Meet me as the sunlight dies;
Ever drifting down the course–
Really, what a silly horse!

• parodied of poems “All in the golden afternoon” and “A boat, beneath a summer sky” by Charles Dodgson, a.k.a. Lewis Carroll

Author's Note

Can you hear the gears turning?