Waiting

White-ribboned bow pulling red strands from bright eyes
Searching blue skies, over wet morning green grass
Caked upon goulashes, paws, and Sunday shoes
Waiting for the race to start, pounding hearts
Beating in time with her song, tucked within her silent gaze
Held by thin yellow tape, bulging under anticipation’s wait
Straining for the perfect view, patient in pink and gingered brow
Furrowed in a sea of gold, sunshine kissed her copper locks,
And cloudy skin, giving her reason to blink

And the race begins.