California Chrome Poem by Ima Ryma

Born under California sun,
With four to race chrome colored feet,
The youth began his love to run
With others, with the aim to beat.
Race rules made by powers that be.
Others whined the rules were not fair.
But win or lose, he was rules free.
The racing was his only care.
An ill fate at the gate did put
This race as one that would be lost.
A nasty cut on one chrome foot.
The Triple Crown this year the cost.

From this Chromie, a thank you poem.
You run on California Chrome.