'The Last Race'

The Last Race

With blind anticipation,
They marched in formation,
As the crowd looked on.

They seem to walk for ages,
as they're led to tiny cages,
With doors that lead to nowhere at all.

And there, inside their cagings,
as the people count their blessings,
they snort, struggle, and paw.

Then out they dash before them,
in rejoiced emancipation,
as the children watch in awe.

The crowd call their numbers,
as the ground softley thunders.
The half mile has come and gone.

They waltz back and forth,
inching ever forward,
as one pulls out of the squall.

And the people stand and cheer,
as their warrior appears,
two strides in front of them all.

But, his feet did surely fail him,
as the ground beneath betrayed him,
and the warrior came crashing down.

And the hooves thundering behind him,
danced their way past him,
as the great race went on.

And the man that stood beside him,
kneeled down and cried then,
as his noble stead had fallen.

As the legends stand before him,
the sound of tears drown out then,
to the sound of trumpet song.