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The Race This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

By TawnyNerd1995, Unit 15584, United States

I sit upon a black beast’s back,
His muscles tight, the rope-reins slack,
Impatiently, he paws the ground,
His heaving breath the only sound

And as his wild eyes glance right,
He witnesses the dawning’s light.
We stand upon a field of grass,
With light, the dewdrops gleam like glass

Now, night’s black with soft pink glints,
Brushed with orange and golden tints.
Spring’s sun swallows the starry sky,
And with the dawn, away we fly

For swifter speed my steed does strain,
As we streak across the open plain.

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