Esmerelda trotted through the winter woods, the silver bell hanging from one black ear jingling softly and sparkling green eyes glowing in the winter twilight. As the occasional patch of starlight or moonlight fell on her, the palest green stars on her coat blazed brightly against the pure blackness of the rest of her coat, much like the stars themselves above her.
Esme burst out of the woods and moved into a gallop, kicking up pure snow with bright green hooves, black and green wings spreading out to launch her into flight. She kicked off and pumped her wings to get her airborne with only a little effort.
Smiling, she singing softly to herself as she glided, finding a passing breeze to ride for a stretch:
Shall we dance
On a bright cloud of music?
Shall we fly?
Shall we dance?
Shall we then say, "Good night," and mean, "Good bye?"
Or perchance,
When the last little star has left the sky,
Shall we still be together
With our wings around each other
And shall you be my one romance?
On the clear understanding
That this kind of thing can happen
Shall we dance?
Shall we dance?
Shall we dance?
