[Critique Group 1] FW: Critique Group 1, DeAnna Noriegaink it only went to Leonard the first try. Here goes:

[DeAnna Noriega]

One of the benefits of moving is discovering things you thought were long lost. Below is a poem I wrote at age thirteen.

 

Summer’s Last Ride

My pony’s pricked ears—alert and eager,

Coaxing, “Let’s run—let’s run and never stop!”

The wind tugging back my too heavy hair,

Taunting, “Chase me—chase me and never stop!”

The primitive tattoo of flying hooves,

Drumming, “Faster—faster—don’t ever stop!”

My heart soaring upward like an uncaged bird,

Singing, ”Higher, higher—don’t ever stop!”

A little voice demanding to be heard,

Crying, “hurry,hurry—soon you must stop.”

A sage strewn land drinking the sun’s spilled gold,

Tempting, “Farther, farther—soon you must stop.”

The hands on my watch race faster than I,

They tick, “It’s now, it’s now—now you must stop.”

 

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