what I love about gymkhanas
I love the feeling of warm summer air
the strong smell of show sheen and bug spray
the feel of my nice new boots
my worn out hand me down jeans sagging at the waist
a dirtied t-shirt, covered in pony slobber and dust
my face speckled in what I can only guess are freckles and mud splotches
I can see a few American quarters, Arabians and Pintos tied to a fence
Some new stallions, and some old mares
I see the kids with worn out saddles with cracked horns
and see the other kids trying to break in their new leather
I see kids missing teeth and dirty faces
and some with pig tails pulled back with pink ribbons
I see all these different people here, but we're really all just the same
I hear hollering and yipping and I know
as I'm leaning against the old fence
I'm finally home