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She treads silently through the forest, her feet

not making a sound,

her arrows on her back,

her bow in her hand, positioned and ready

to shoot.

 

She is strong; and stubborn

I must be careful when I'm around her

because she shoots when she is angry,

and charges

like a bull when it sees red.

 

She is like my sister

yet we are northing alike,

her features, golden and delicate

her grace, her beauty, her elegance

are always covered by that grim determination on her face.

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By Kareena

View more poems from Hornsby Girls High School, 2013