A POEM III

           Untitled

        I've raced the race,
        both won and placed,
        and lost far back in time.

        I was there, but not,
        the reasons forgot,
        the record seems not mine.

        Though true I'm bred
        for the starting gate,
        run for the running sake,

        my want seems to gaze,
        with a penchant to chart
        what reason the running could make.

        Though few I've won,
        the bouquet to take,
        I think the thought and rhyme,

        though seems I'm bred
        for the starting gate,
        the purpose escapes my mind.

           By Richard Herren