Horses

Competition day had arrived, His muzzle twitched with anticipation And in relation my feet tingled in a way like never before. For the first time, we both doubted ourselves But fear not, we must carry on As I plaited his forelock in preparation I took the time to appreciate how flat his withers was How typically racehorse he was I stroked his fetlock as I knew this could be it. His hooves were oiled and shiny as ever Ready for anything And the 3 link that he loved Made no difference in poll pressure As we bolt across the course, aiming to be the best “I trust you, boy” As if to tell him that even though, 2 years ago when he was deemed A mess with dodgy hocks and lumpy coronets Who was a waste He could do this, to prove them wrong and beat the best Become the best