No.
I think I remember now.
It was the mud, wasn't it? It caked on our hooves, rich and lovely and cool. The tall untamed grasses and the bullrushes proud heralds: they brushed against our legs so, and hid the way we stepped (together, that is). It was almost as lovely as your smile, with your sweet small mouth and eyes (eyes that I thought reflected the wide expanse of the sky). I remember the sun-heat, too, bearing down on us so that we had to dip into the frothy river, disturb the fish with our long dark shadows, and flick our tails at each other lazily as we walked. It rose to my knees, so that we walked sluggish and happy. Then the songbirds paused their song, and a shadow passed...
Still, it was a lovely place, where we were the hour we had to part.
