Legs pounding upon the turf
Riders beckon forth new strength
Nostrils flare with tempered excitement
The winner chosen by half a length
The crowd cheers encouragement
Though ears hear not a sound
The whip and stirrup signal desire
The leader conceding no gained ground
A mass of colors blur the vision
The thunder of hooves herald the end
Ten horses turn the corner racing
The finish visible just beyond the bend
Four steeds move to the forefront
While the others fall to the rear
Only three can claim any victory
The end of the race draws near
With a final flurry of motion
One horse surges to claim the win
Within minutes the racetrack is empty
The audience anxious for a new race to begin
