
Barrel Racing
The big red horse
Walks up to the gate,
A spring in her step,
Blaze bright on her face.
As they wait for the cue,
Her muscles tense up.
She stares through the gate
To the barrels set up.
She spurs the horse forward,
And like a bullet from a gun,
They shoot into the arena
To barrel number one.
For the girl, the world stops
And nothing else matters,
Except for her and her horse,
Who she urges to go faster.
They zip through the pattern,
Hearts beating together,
And in those short 18 seconds,
She’s light as a feather.
Her spirit soars free
Like a bird from a cage,
As they race along
At a sharp, speedy pace.
Her troubles and fears
Are lost to the wind
As they turn the third barrel
And race home again.
Time seems to stand still
As she crosses the line
And slows the horse down
As they call out the time.
She smiles at the number,
But the light in her eyes
Says it’s not just about the race,
It’s also about the ride.