This poem was originally written in Russian by GreyPon, and the original can be read here. I ended up writing a translation because I enjoyed the original work.
There are secrets that hide in the dark,
And not always do they wish you well.
On my tale let us embark,
How I chanced my doom to repel.
In that moonless hour of night,
The winds howled and beat at the glass.
And it seemed any moment they might,
Into my cozy house to pass.
Withdrawn into music was I,
Didn't hear it's call right away.
By the window a shadow draws,
As it quietly knocked for parley.
From the ground are six stories fixed,
And my guest seemed to be Scootaloo.
As I hurried over transfixed,
In excitement my pulse only grew.
I was very amazed at this sight,
Making certain it truly was she.
Even in this most faint of light,
That this wasn't a dreams' escapee.
And I almost flipped open the latch,
To allow her entry inside.
But I froze a moment to catch.
In my mind a warning then cried!
I have heard of a tale told late,
Almost laughably fitting this core.
And recalling that most cruel fate,
Quickly down the curtains I bore.
With a nighttime window unlocked…
It was lucky I guessed to deny,
As it wasn't a pony that knocked.
For you see, Scootaloo cannot fly.