Horse Racing
by Shaun William Hayes
The Sun rose slowly over the Downs
Deceiving the early risers with its promise of warmth
The half-light gave a spectral air
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As the first blue-blooded aristocrats
Moved out of the mist – slowly gaining flesh
Then the Snort Snort of the bellow like lungs
And the Thump Thump of hooves on the dewy ground
-
Much later the milling crowds
As all throng together with thoughts of winning
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See, there walks your pick of the day – how fine
Yet is he right – does he look a winner
The tension mounts
The starting gate opens
-
And then it is over
Silence settles with the sun
With only the fluttering of torn up dreams
To give a clue to the spectacle
-
I know I am a day behind, therefore I will do another entry
~Picture Perfect Memory
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