ASTRIDE HIM
Straight and tall I sit astride him,
Legs clamped tight around his girth.
As we gently glide along
Keeping stride upon the earth.
Rippling muscles move beneath me,
As I feel them tighten up
As we move slowly-round the course
Then the lift is so abrupt.
There he strides in all his grandeur
Sleek of coat and high of tail
For, my horse, with pride and triumph
Will in contest, never fail
As the gentle stride renews me,
Knowing that our course was true
Then up to the cheering grandstand
The shiny silver cup we will pursue.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt 10-31-05
Ms. Caroline
© 2006 Ms. Caroline (All rights reserved)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem