A Day At The Races Poem by Shaun William Hayes

The Sun rose slowly over the Downs
Deceiving the early risers with its promise of warmth.
The half-light gave a spectral air
As the first blue blooded aristocrats
Moved out of the mist slowly gaining flesh

Then the Snort Snort of the bellow like lungs
And the Thump Thump of hooves on the dewy ground

Much later the milling crowds
As all throng together with thoughts of winning

See, there walks your pick of the day how fine
Yet is he right, does he look a winner
The tension mounts
The starting gate opens

And then it is over
Silence settles with the sun
With only the fluttering of torn up dreams
To give a clue to the spectacle