Sonya Wilson's Blog

Hush-a-bye
Don’t you cry
Go to sleep, my little baby.

When you wake
You shall have
All the pretty little horses.

Black and bay,
Dapple and gray,
All the pretty little horses.

I was never sure about the dapple one.  Black and grey were easy.  Bay was a little harder, but dapple required inquiry.  She explained that it was spotted, but even then the colors were vague and the spots amorphous.  Yet it was still beautiful, especially as carried by the melodious, clear tone.  Horses of different shades and colors were sunning themselves in that ethereal misty meadow, where particulars were trivial and the scene was all the more enticing for its vague borders.

I never expected to reach the horses.  But I would focus on them as I was drifting to sleep, pulling them closer.  As I concentrated on the scene, the glimmer of hope began to lodge itself in the recesses of the three-year-old consciousness.  I understood the difference between hope and fantasy but I tried to forget, as if blurring the distinction would bring me closer.

Even now I know: if I’m ever close enough to touch them, the dapple will be the first.

When you wake
You shall have
All the pretty little horses

This entry was posted on September 13, 2012 at 2:47 am and is filed under Ramblings. You can subscribe via RSS 2.0 feed to this post's comments. You can comment below, or link to this permanent URL from your own site.