Horse


. H O R S E .

Dirt and dust filled the air

High pitched neighing in our ears

Stomping with hooves on fire

The race it would soon transpire

Some held back timid and afraid

Others took their place

And in their place they stayed

Eyes wild with a fiery cinder pop

made so by the jockey’s

Incessant clapping with

an indignant rider’s crop

Yet one stood still

No prodding or beating

To keep his place

No more than it’s own

Champion will to race

At the sound of the pistol

Bodies en mass they

All took off

No doubt lingered at the starting gate

Who the winner today would be

To finish first this course

It was the stallion glistening

and standing proud

It was the stallion the crowd

Only knew as Horse

~ by Vinnie on January 17, 2020.

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