He bathes in the stares of the expectant crowd; he parades
Majestic in the paddock, power pulses though every fibre.
He's odds on favourite - the housewives' choice.

Ears pricked and slick with anticipation the stalls imprison him briefly,
Heart pounding, he plans his escape until at last
They're off - hooves erupt into thunderoous applause.
Charging down the green highway, a grassy blur underfoot,
Muscles stretch, taut wire tendons strain, he soars into full flight.
Hunched, a mud spattered rainbow of silk bidesw his time.
Comfortable behind the pack he lets them make the running.
A chink of light and they infiltrate the breach.
Wind baffles the crescendo of silent cheers from the grandstand
As neck and neck they stampede into the home straight
Stride for stride in tortured harmony they sprint for the line

Then it's over; he keeps his crown.
It's a familiar road to the winner's enclosure where they pay homage
In this, the sport of Kings.