The Winner...
Muscle and bone wound up tight against the starting blocks
Ready to spring into action
At the firing of the gun at the starting of the clocks
The competition is the satisfaction
The senses are raised for instant reaction
The focus of the zone is written on the face
No hesitation at the start of the race
The runners are off, floating on grace
The legs hit their stride
Evaluation made with a glance to the side
Deep breaths are sucking up air
The body is pressed for all it can bear
Farther, faster its almost done
Who is going to win, who will be the one
In fluid motion the arms are moving up and down
Sweat appears at the base of the neck
and in little beads upon the crown
Who is going to win, who will be the one
When the race is done
Heart pounding, lungs burning and every atom is in sync
But the body is now beyond it’s brink
Desire arises from somewhere deep down inside
And the legs move faster pushing the pain aside
A little bit farther, a little bit faster, it’s almost done
Who will be the winner, who will be the one
A final last effort to make the tape
One last lunge to let victory take shape
Who is going to be the winner, who will be the one
The race in the present, the race in the past
First, second, third, or last
The name of the winner is the one who made the run
MikeB