The Horse Race

January 7, 2012
The world is still
In anticipation
The sweet taste of excitement hangs in the air
Standing straight up is every hair
Bells ring
Birds cease to sing
The pounding thunder is deafening
Rapid, constant, snorting breaths
Around the bend they come
Streaks like lightening past the stands
Leaving dust clouds lingering after the bands
The stadium erupts, huge and loud
Roaring with the joyous crowd
The prior hustle and bustle
The smooth green treasure trading hands
Goes to the triumphant
The luscious perfume of the blanket of roses
Upon the back of the mighty beast
Champagne filling the golden cup
A winner stands alone
In the circle of glory

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