Beneath the amber glow of the setting sun, they run free,
Hooves pounding the earth in a rhythmic symphony,
Manes flowing like whispers of the wind,
Eyes gleaming with the spirit of untamed freedom.

In the meadow, where dreams are spun,
They leap and bound, shadows of elegance,
Each stride a testament to ancient strength,
Carving stories into the fabric of the twilight.

Through fields of gold and whispering pine,
Their unity is a song of time,
A dance that defies the chains of moments,
Melding past, present, and future into a single heartbeat.

Oh, the horses, how they soar,
Against the dying light, they rise,
Symbols of grace in an ever-turning world,
Their beauty, an eternal flame in the twilight sky.