Horserace To The Bar
Your horse stands there trembling;
his sides heaving in and out.
His feet are on the steps.
Blood mixed with froth,
drips onto the landing;
from his mouth,
where the wicked bit and chain hang slack.
Blood flows from cuts and scrapes on all four legs.
You claim, 'I won! '
in your loud and obnoxious voice.
You cut across the park.
The other rider and his horse followed the rules.
You ran your horse through the hedges.
You got there first.