Race Horse

The candle is lit,
She is born, destined to run the turf.
She is expected to follow the success of her mother,
(Not produce the ill-fate of her brother).

The tapes fly up, she jumps the first (steady but un-balanced),
Then. she comes under the blows of the whip,
Drives hard, reaches high - crashes through,
Such a waste.
For this was a day when Fortune's Finger was pointing another
way.
The flame flickers, fades, dies,
Her life is gone.