I wait - the still, hot sun above - before a stern gallery of black-eyed susans, I wait. My pounding heart my only sense, among the green and gold silence, I wait. Then, a flash of bay and wine, the pounding hooves come closer. My heart swells as she flies, this golden child of my heart. Then she's gone, the flowers nodding their approval of a job well done.
Reason for writing:
My daughter, Robin, rides cross-country events. She is a brave, accomplished rider, and the pride of my heart. To watch her control a 1200-pound Thoroughbred with such skill and grace is a marvel to me - after all, she's still my baby.Birth sign: Not entered
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Becky Young - Cancer.