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Anika Festrog Apr 2012
I mount my steed
I caress her hard, round reins
I pat her side lovingly
I back her out of her stall
and race off into a new day.

We merge into The Great Race
and jockey for position.  
She is a magnificent specimen
both hardy and powerful
though difficult to handle sometimes.

I move with her through
the turns, curves, and hilly stretches.
We leap as one over bumps and holes.
I have never yet called her to halt too late.

My friend tells me that she has limits
with regard to speed,
but as I urge her on,
she never makes any noticeable complaint,
always eager, willing, and easy in her acceleration.

This guy cantering ahead of us is too slow.
I flick my head to the side, glancing over my shoulder,
to make sure no one is next to me and my steed.
With the same movement, we slide over to gallop
onward,
forever.

— The End —