by Olivia Gilbert

Created on: June 17, 2009

Cantering 'round and 'round the ring,

Hands as wet as a pitcher of water, face raining sweat,

We gallop closer and closer to the jump,

I rise up above the brown leather saddle,

Reins grasped in hand.

We near the poles that seem as wide

As a football stadium, as tall as a mountain,

Will we make it? Will we make it?

Indie lunges forward and up,

We clear the jump as gracefully

As a swan glides over water.

For a single instant,

I have no worries, no cares, no problems.

All I feel is freedom and happiness.

Then it's over, all over.

We have landed, ripped from our dream world, we move on,

Back to reality,

Back to that dusty arena,

Back until the next jump.

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