October 10, 2010
The air is cool and crisp
The light is sinking behind the mountains
I sit upon my horse
His muscles rippled bellow me
I stroke his neck
I breathe in and out, shaking a bit
I’m nervous
They call my name
We gallop into the ring
We race around the barrels, feeling like I’m flying
We fly out the end gate.
An hour passes, and suddenly my name is called
The crowd cheers and screams, I smile and hold my trophy, my horse prances.
That is the feel of riding.

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horsegurl14 said...
Nov. 3, 2010 at 4:57 pm
What do u guys think??
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