The Race
This poem has a bit of a surprise in it. As you`re reading, you think one thing, but when you reach the middle and end, you find something different.This poem is dedicated to all of the horses that have raced.
The starting gate,
spot number eight,
my it`s small in here.
There`s the bell,
we`re off!
But where is everyone?
I an hear them,
I can`t see them.
They`re behind me,
I`m in the lead!
I race around the track,
my hooves barely touching the ground,
I`m flying.
I swoop to the finish,
and glide to the circle.
Ah! Those roses smell wonderful.
Home,
in my paddock,
I soar around and around.
They can`t keep me away,
from running,
from flying,
from the race.
- Jen Marsh
©2001
