Stepping out with ticket in hand
And hope riding high on a yet unseen
steed,
I stand in awe of the spectacle,
Unknowing of where the adventure may
lead.
Unlike those to whom the event is
A common occurrence, a daily routine,
Mine is a mindset of fresh
undertaking,
Reviving old memories evoked by the
scene.
The oval of sand and sod stretching
out
And around the lush pasture of
freshly mown green.
The anticipation of speed, grace and
power
Makes me feel like a child of
sixteen.
The princely procession parades for
the masses,
Stately and proud their colors
display.
Noble demeanor etched in their faces;
Confident, each one, that this is
their day.
The strutting completed, each one
takes their places,
Guarded and stroked by encouraging
hands
Until, on a cue, the portals burst
open
And power emerges to meet their
demands.
Around the wide oval they unleash
their power,
Demeanor abandoned, forsaken for
speed.
Muscular strides of sinew and sweat
Stretching and straining to get to
the lead.
Around the turns race the thundering
hoard
Attacking and churning and tearing
the track.
Surging and soaring to stretch for
the forefront;
No time to pause, demure or look
back.
And now to the stretch, as they run
for the wire,
Unbridled excitement and tension
abound.
Knowing that one and only one
Can lay his claim on the winner's
crown.
And all who are standing and urging
them on,
With a lump crying deep in the pit of
their throat,
Pray that the ticket they clutch to
their breast
Will offer them the honor to gloat.
And now the great mass of sinew and
flesh
Break their stride as the race is at
end.
And I look at my ticket, tear it in
half,
And go back to the window again.
Next race in twenty minutes.
Lulu Storefront: http://www.lulu.com/dsmartin
Amazon Author's Page: http://www.amazon.com/Dennis-S-Martin/e/B004SXY4LG/ref=sr_tc_2_0?qid=1394055582&sr=1-2-ent
