The Escape

Across the lawn

The ponies trot

Cushiony, springy

Moss underfoot

Snatching bits

Of grass as they go

Hoofprints left behind

By each tiny toe

These sly little ponies

Are up to no good

They have not stayed

Where they know they should

They leapt over the fences

Cantered over the hill

When it is nighttime

They’ll be here still

When their owners catch them

And lock them in

These little ponies

Will soon be out again

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