Ode to Napoleon (the Horse)

Ginger legs racing, hoofs pounding, dirt flying
my mind is empty, it is clear
thats what happens when we ride... past the gate we go, red and white main flying to brush my cheeks, tears well in my eyes  as I press my heels down and raise my body up, ipso that the wind curls through my hair and his.

I am running,I  look to the gate, flicking my mane at the girls face...
I stretch my legs and kick at the sand, I nimbly and gracefully, dodge the red jump.

I squeeze slightly with my legs and urge us around the ring one more time.
as we slow, the sun becomes just the sun instead of rays of gold and the wind becomes just a breeze instead of a rush of adrenaline.


we are walking and I stretch my neck down to blow at he sand and get a good breath.
My sides are heaving.

A smile plays at my lips and I don't notice the red of my cheeks or the swift beat of heart as i slide off of the little red pony.