My Champion

February 7, 2011
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Her mane sways swiftly
Her coat glistens
Her eyes a hazel brown

Her mind racing from one barrel to the next
Her ears pricked up, ready to slice the wind as we enter
She hops, leaping into the air in one solitary movement
We fly
Seeming like we don’t touch the ground
The wind drying our eyes, as we look up

Only to find
We’re in the field
No barrels
No speed
But a champion still underneath me
My beauty

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