I do remember my art teacher a Belle
And really a Goddess; Her fallen hair reached the buttocks
Talking eyes and the pleasant smile that brings flux to a lonely heart.
Still it's a dilemma why she remained as a spinster?
My nostalgic thoughts ferried into the boisterous schooldays
And she drew a horse on the blackboard.
Later she explained; 'Mustang is a wild horse of Mexico and California.'
Right now I want to shout to my dear stunning teacher that I struggle to live in California and I dream sometimes my beautiful Mustang neighs;
' Unfaithful Master you have already jumped the hurdle leaving me alone at the border.'

* The butterfly counts not months, but moments, and yet has time enough.
-unknown

To Alison