One Full Day
In the town of New Filly, there once stood a house,
Though its stature was more of a hou or an ouse.
For this little old home wasn’t very complete;
Not a half of its self could it boast was replete.
On the Street of Halfway, all alone did it sit,
And the stallion who owned it could only admit:
It had only three walls that wrapped halfway around,
And to only one side was a broken roof bound.
His living room sat in the plainest of sight
Of those who so chose to pass it at night.
His bedroom was lofted a single floor high.
It gave him a view of the wonderful sky.
On the wall t’ward the middle, there rested a clock.
With a count of six numbers, it’d tick, but not tock.
A bed, halfway built, in the corner all snug
Sat halfway unmade on a threadbare old rug.
Quite chilly's the kitchen, as cold as dry ice;
Having half of a fridge clearly paid its own price.
Even finding the bathroom was no simple task.
And trying to use it... just don't even ask.
But regardless of these the young stallion tread
Up the street named Halfway, t'ward his little homestead.
To the sun overhead had he absently gazed.
He half-frowned at the sight and continued, amazed.
"It is nearly that time," he then said ‘fore, "methinks.
I should jump into bed, so to get twenty winks.”
Off the halfway-built road did the stallion hop
T'ward his halfway-built door, where he came to a stop.
He lifted the mat, that which only said ‘-come,'
Then he fitted the key, and he entered his home.
Of the stairs in his ouse, every other he climbed.
As he entered his bedroom, the noon hour chimed.
He looked in his mirror that was cut down the middle
At his hair—black and white—as it sat all a-twiddle.
He glanced at his suit and its colors so true:
The strongest of hues of dark red and sky blue.
And closer he looked, beneath eyes blue and green,
At the bags that from Heaven could surely be seen.
“Oh, what work I have done in the morn' of this day!
The rest of this light I shall sleep half away!"
So onto his bed he then happily rolled,
But caught sight of the sun, which looked back at him, bold.
A face he then made, such a terrible pout.
He yelled at the sun, "Would you turn your light out!?"
But the sun—as it was—gave him not a reply;
It just sat as it did in its spot in the sky.
With quite a loud grumble and audible huff,
He simply rolled over, had had quite enough.
One half of a bed, at his side he had not.
And a hole in his heart quickly grew at the thought.
A mare full of love was all he desired,
And for all of his own to be so admired.
But with half of a sigh, to half slumber he fell.
How exactly he did so, one couldn't quite tell.
The dreams that he had he no more than half dreamt;
For just half a day did he have to preempt.
Quite quickly then passed the day into night,
And into the dawn of the next daily light.
He awoke in the morn' to a wonderful day.
He awoke once again to work only halfway.
He brushed half his teeth and he gave half a grin.
Out the door, down the road, was his day to begin.
The sky was bright blue, and the birds were a-chatter.
"This day is so fine! There is nothing the matter!"
It was then it so happened his gaze went astray.
And a sight caught his eye, so he stopped... all the way.
In the shop he was passing, alone at a table,
Sat an angel in guise taken straight from a fable.
Like silky-smooth copper her hair truly seemed;
Her icy-blue eyes, in the sun, fully gleamed.
His breath he held fast, knowing not what to do.
For where had she come from? He had not a clue.
He thought of his bed, then the hole in his heart.
And then with a stroll, t'ward the mare did he start.
Up the patio step he felt nothing but weak,
But courage returned, and it bid him to speak.
"Good morn' there, fair maiden, may I have a word?
Please allow me to speak, and don't think me absurd."
From the book in her hooves, her eyes came to a rest
Upon him, and he lost all the words he had next.
While lost in the trance he but gave her a smile—
So toothy and silly. He stood there awhile.
A quick shake of his head brought him out of her spell.
He then spoke from the heart, and he spoke very well.
“A form ne'er so graceful, nor beauty so rare.
That straight from my chest, my half-heart they ensnare.
And here on from yours, do I truly desire,
To entwine you with love, your sweet heart to acquire.
How now, my fair maid, I must hear what you'll say.
May I ask of your heart only once for today?"
His little heart pittered right out of his chest,
But hers was not so—barely pattered at best.
She glanced at his eyes and his hair in distrust,
And then at his suit with a look of disgust.
"What happened to you?" she abruptly inquired.
“You look like a model who’s rightly been fired.”
"I know not what you mean," disconcerted, he said.
At his curls she then pointed, on top of his head.
"You've got hair that is black, and that's also got white.
I must ask as to how you can sleep so at night.
Your suit is so wacky: sky blue and dark red!
I truly must ask: were you hit in the head?
I don't want to sound rude, nor the slightest bit mean.
But it is pretty funny, just one eye of green.
I am sorry, dear sir, you have spoken your word.
I've allowed you to speak, and I think you absurd."
With naught but a smile she returned to her book,
Having dashed his high hopes after only a look.
He returned to his ouse with hot fumes from his ears.
It drove him quite mad, nearly drove him to tears!
"I’m silly? Absurd? Such a thought couldn’t be!
I will change how I look, and then she will see!”
He ran to the store, and he bought a new suit:
Such a dapper gray pinstripe that none could refute.
All his hair he then dyed to the sleekest of black;
A masterful plan that would silence her flak.
The optometrist sold him but one, single lens
That was colored bright green, so to follow the trends.
Then into his mirror, the stallion glanced.
"Now will I be rejected? Ha! Not a chance!"
He went to the shop, then, to find her again;
He boldly approached, and he gave her a grin.
"Good morn' there, fair maiden, may I have a word?
Please allow me to speak, and don't think me absurd.
My hair is all black. It is no more half white.
It is no more a threat in the middle of night.
My suit is not wacky, not blue and not red.
And to answer your question: I’ve no hit to my head.
I don’t think you rude, nor the slightest bit mean.
For not a bit funny are two eyes of green.
How now, my fair maid, I must hear what you'll say.
May I ask of your heart only once more today?"
The beautiful mare then, after a glance,
Said, “Alright, good sir, I will give you a chance."
His face, in a whirl, by a grin it was swept,
But calm he remained; his composure he kept.
"My house is just there. It is not a great hike.
It is quite a fine place that I think you will like."
Up the street named Halfway soon the pair of them strode,
T'ward his halfway-built ouse—t'ward his humble abo.
After crossing the yard he thrust open his door,
But she grimaced and gagged, clearly hoping for more.
"Oh goodness, dear sir, do you call this a house?
For its stature is more of a hou or an ouse.
Only three walls around is your little homestead,
And to only one part is a roof overhead.
Your living room here—it is right in plain view
Of the street that you're on. Quite a problem to few.
Your bedroom—it dangles just one floor above!
It's too close to death with just one simple shove.
If I lived in this place would my work come a-knocking,
Because I would not wake to a clock that's not tocking.
Your bed—as it seems—is a scare, I confess.
Halfway built—halfway made!—it’s a horrible mess.
Your kitchen is cold. It chills right to the bone!
Not a half of a fridge could I possibly own.
The bathroom is hidden. It is! Try to find!
The thought of its use... nevermind.
I am sorry, dear sir, you have spoken your word.
I've allowed you to speak, and I think you absurd."
She turned then to leave as she bid him good day.
But try as he might, he had nothing to say.
He sat there in thought. He began then to stew.
A lightbulb went off, and he knew what to do.
He set straight to work, and he worked in a flurry.
There was much to be done. He was in quite a hurry.
In all of his haste did he make lots of noise,
But when he was finished, he stood with great poise.
Unto his home, then, the stallion glanced.
"Now will I be rejected? Ha! Not a chance!"
He went to the shop, then, to find her again;
He boldly approached, and he gave her a grin.
"Good morn' there, fair maiden, may I have a word?
Please allow me to speak, and don't think me absurd.
Not an hour ago did I show you my house
Whose stature you said was a hou or an ouse.
Four walls you will see now, go ‘round my homestead.
So too you shall see: there’s a roof overhead.
My living room, there, that was once in plain view—
Who can see from the street? Could you please name a few?
My bedroom that sits still just one floor above
Is now safe for a mare from your one simple shove.
No longer would work anymore come a-knocking.
My clock used to tick, but is now also tocking.
A scare, did you say was my bed? Please confess!
Fully built—fully made—it's no longer a mess.
My kitchen that chilled all the way to the bone,
No more and no less of one fridge does it own.
My bathroom that hid—that was so hard to find—
All your queries on usage, please pay them no mind!
How now, my fair maid, I must hear what you'll say.
May I ask of your heart only once more today?"
The beautiful mare then, after a glance,
Said, “Alright, good sir, I will give you a chance."
A wonderful day they then spent in the town,
But all of the while had the mare worn a frown.
"Wha-What is the matter?" he stammered, aghast,
In the hopes that this date surely wasn’t their last.
“I truly am sorry,” was all she could say.
“But something's still wrong. For an answer I pray.
You have changed how you look, and your house is now true,
But what you've become is just not at all you."
A “sorry” she gave before taking her leave,
But the stallion, shocked, he could hardly believe.
He stumbled on home to his fully built house
And then changed it all back to a hou, or an ouse.
He washed all the black that he had in his hair,
And tossed out his suit without even a care.
He removed the green lens. He fared well to it all.
On the single, sad thought his mind came to a stall.
Here was his chance to find love at first sight.
And there it had gone, like a ghost in the night.
Half of the day he then cried half away,
But he knew that his sadness he couldn’t let stay.
He sighed as he forced himself up from his rump
To go for a walk and help shrug off his slump.
He wandered in silence, his face in a frown,
Up street after street and all over town.
All the cracks in the sidewalk passed under his shoes,
‘Til another pair stopped him and asked him for news:
"Oh goodness, dear sir, are you feeling alright?
That look on your face—what a startling fright!"
The mare he had met not at all long ago
Stared straight back at him, truly wanting to know.
"I am sorry, fair maiden, for wasting your time.
I see I'm no good... and to try was a crime."
He lowered his head before turning to leave,
But just as he stepped, felt a hoof catch his sleeve.
“All the things that you did you did just to express
All the feelings you felt; you but tried to impress.
With you nothing's wrong. There is not a thing silly.
But the age that I've acted was that of a filly.
After all of this time can I clearly now see:
It’s not you; it was I! The absurd one was me."
With sorrow and sadness, she looked to the ground,
Then slowly her eyes, up to his, came around.
Slowly and shyly, she let herself smile.
She let out a laugh, and he joined her awhile.
"Now do I know that this isn't your fault,
And strongly do I all persistence exalt.
How now, then, dear sir, I must ask what you'll say.
May I myself try, then, just once now today?"
The rest of that day, ‘til the sun slowly set,
They laughed and they played, like a couple long met.
He acted himself, with no reason to hide,
And she happily stayed with him, right by his side.
And then on from hers, as he wholly desired,
He entwined her with love. Her sweet heart he acquired.
His halfway-built ouse is still there on that street.
It's a hou meant for two, and his house is complete.
~Corejo