Ode to Riding

February 18, 2010
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The soft creak of the saddle
Leather braids in my fingers
The iron beneath my feet
And the soft jingle of the bit
My heart races with the sound of horses hooves
The horses black mane blows in the wind and grazes my fingers
The hoof beats come faster
They start to form together
Into a symphony
But I can’t lose focus
Because one move
Could end it all

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