Down the faded path,

as the cool air blows.

Farther and farther,

I trot from home.

Delight is in my pony's winnie,

with its black sparkling eyes.

         Then a wooden cabin appears.

With a brown and white hound that howls.

The trot is now a canter,

as I grow closer and closer,

to the cabin. 

 
       Now I awake with pale, 

 yellow light framing my face

every morning. 

The dream I once had,

is now reality.