She was born, raised in the pasture with the mare.
She was born free. Only nipped occasionally when lazy or too wild.
She grew within the confines of fences.
She grew contentedly into a fine filly.
Obedient.
Happy
Inside her fences.
Don’t put the bridle on her.
She’ll only bite your hand.
Don’t put the saddle on her,
She’ll only throw you.
You can’t reign in the filly that has always run free.
Giver me fences.
Not reigns.