After the race that never reaches an end, but abruptly stops just because (A poem)

I don’t know how I stumbled upon the horse-racing metaphor, but there it is…

The dismount comes as a surprise
you could be forgiven for not looking
at just the right moment
thinking you still had time
to see it all

Sometimes the horse is better off
sitting out the race
scars need time to heal
Is it better to be whip smart
or well-rested?

Here come the little girls
in star-spangled dresses
to distract us from the mundane truth
leaving the winner’s circle
up for grabs

Leave it to the dark horse
to raise the question marks
to dismiss comfort
for the sake of the draw
or a beeline for the gate

Losers litter the grounds inches thick
a tired soul picks at the scraps
for the winner let slip—
but it’s disappointment’s time
until the sun circles back

So, what are we left with?
The stallion in the stable
sleeps in the corner
oblivious to the dreams
of jockeys and raconteurs

(14 January 2016)