paul revere

Steam pulsating out of the nostrils of his steed,

The man at night does do his deed;

Crying faithfully in to the night,

“They’re on their way!”

“They’re on their way!”

The ringing of the stirrups, the jangle of the bit,

Chomping, salivating, neighing ~

Nigh.

Harder, faster!

He rides.

A cloak of fog, hoof beating the earth;

Heart pounding and night sweats wake the whole town.

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