Black horse

CLIP-CLOP! Clip-clap goes the horse.
The thief of terror bolts in haste across the empty plains,
Having the scent of fragrant perfume instead of the stench of oxidised metal.
My horse has midnight fur and black cat’s fleecy, feathery, cotton tail.

My sentimental horse has the flavour of luscious, scrumptious grapes,
With a hint of fresh, green mint and a sweet smell of delicious raspberries.
It has the taste of tangy, lilac lavender,
And the aroma of a gorgeous, attractive rose.

My horse has a fuzzy lion’s mane,
As well as skin as shiny as a whirlpool of glitter.
If my horse were lost one squally day,
It would still build up courage like an ignited candle’s flame.

My does not have coarse and bumpy skin like a tough lizard’s scales,
It is precious like a collection of different-patterned 50-cent coins.
Its body is dark like an eerie, sinister and haunted street with no light,
But my horse is still special like a bowl of unique, treasurable, golden gems.