No bucking, just ducking from branches above,
Riding through the forest, it's as if we are doves.
We trot, we canter, we gallop away,
As I sway in the saddle she gives out a neigh.
Soaring over fallen trees as if they are nothing,
Looking even more gracious than the girls who do show jumping.
We are in action, the way the horse moves,
No one can stop us or dare disapprove.
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