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The Race


A slight breeze fills the sail,
It billows and we're off.
Around the buoys, left then right,
Gybing quickly without fear.
There's three ahead.
Then there's two.
What's this?
One, only one.
Our boats are neck and neck.
We're passing. we're passing!
The line's so close.
Here we go were pulling ahead.
One, two, three...
Easy as that,
We won the race.

 

Crystal Middlemas 
E-Mail jitter-bug@rocketmail.com