My Encounter with a High Horse

 My eyes fluttered open as the grey light of dawn filtered into my room. Stretching in the warm cocoon of my bed, I reached into the crisp cold air of my bedroom with outstretched arms. Something important was tugging at my sleepy brain, and slowly I remembered; I had an adventure planned for this morning!


 As quietly as I could, I slipped from between the covers. Then, shivering and teeth chattering, I quickly dressed and tiptoed downstairs, careful not to wake my sleeping parents and brother. My parents wouldn't have understood-- and my brother, three years younger, would have wanted to tag along.

 Leaving the silent house with a couple of apples in my pocket, I stepped out into a world alive with chirping, twittering bird-song. A short walk from our house was a meadow, and I ran through the frosty grass towards the paddock. There stood my friend Merrylegs, who I often stroked on my way to school. Seeing me, she walked towards the fence, the breath from her nostrils hanging like puffs of smoke in the cold air. Her warm, velvety nose nuzzled into my outstretched hand, her lips feeling for the juicy apple. I climbed over the fence and jumped to the ground, landing with a thud. My aim was to ride Merrylegs, but I'd never ridden a horse before, and all of a sudden, standing right beside her, I realized how high she stood. She patiently tolerated my few valiant attempts to jump on, but my fantasy of galloping around the field would be unfulfilled, at least on that day!

Belinda (edited version of a post from 2006)

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