Black Satin

A Book, Small, Black, slightly Shiny, possibly Leather ...

Sleep cracks, as lids flutter in dream

Georgie Porgie has vented his spleen

A melon-tinged bird appears on the wing

Take me back gilded horse, Madame Queen, Mrs King

Mary Contrary with buzzard and cheese ...

Small, black and yes, slightly shiny. Possibly leather. But more likely faux.

Eyes transfixed, examining the shape, texture … aura? No! Surely, it’s only a mass-produced book. But still, I dare not reach forth and touch it. My body has frozen, and my mind is not far behind.

All of a sudden, without warning, my bedroom door clangs open and in trots a horse. A gilded horse with an albatross on its back and a crown on her head …

I look down at my nightstand and see a small red book.

Great! What was that bloody code!

I look down at my diary and … what the Bloody Hell is that!

Two, twenty eight, Churchill three

Ten and three, what's it mean to me?

Two, twenty eight, Churchill three

Ten and three, what's it mean to me?

The strong coffee gives me a headache, so when my canter passes the news stand, I give the guy an indignant mouthful. Complaining bitterly, about how a $5.00 notebook could not possibly be leather.

The rest as they say is history

Number 13, Black Satin, Race 3, Churchill Downs, 28 of February at 200 to 1.

So, what happened to the Little Red Book?

It is now bound in a small, black, slightly shiny, definitely leather cover. With no hint of faux.

My treasured notebook never became a diary in the strict sense, it is now a dream journal. I keep it by my bed for any visions of crowns, black hats, gilded horses and perhaps a stray bird or two.

Bespoke satin leather ... absolutely not faux

Black Satin