I walk to my horse

The ground, it feels coarse
I bring the horse an apple, its main course
However, the walk is long so I feel a bit of remorse
The path is crooked or antrorse
I look around if only I could see a gorse
I walk alone on this trail
It is somewhat dark, so I do not want to go at the speed on a snail
I know that I must prevail
Knowing that my horse must be very frail
I cannot bail because my quest will not fail
I do not know what will entail
And then there’s a forest in which I look
It looks like a very pretty brook
I think to myself, this scene would be perfect for my poetry book