Horses

I strode in, nose in the air, lofty and proud, Through the grand doors of the horses arena. Standing beside the rusted rail, assessing the parade For the eyes of a hardened ballerina. The show pony on the track, the performer of fast, The chase from the back, or lead from the front. Then I saw deep, deep into the stallion, he said he would win, So on him I placed my first punt. Last! ! Well that horse was a liar, so young and so green, His eyes told a dream that he had. The next parade was now on, the filly’s eyes shone to me, She was an athletic sprinting Olympiad. With hands full of urgent, I hastily fired the money from my pocket, All on horse named Jitterbug. She came in only seven lengths from the front, yep I know, I’m the hopeless tragic horse racing mug.