First Place:

In loving grace I remember still,
Her words like pin-***** tender thrills,
Sent shivers up my spine,
To race my heart in rising time.

A pounding beat and nervous air,
To match there eager step,
And cautious charm,
That was love as I saw then,
A distant hope,
With reaching arm.

I look upon those tender days,
With eyes of old and fading grace,
Such hope for one who was so young,
So much of life still yet to run.
Yet odds be ****** for odds they were,
And with them stood a chance for first.

And so I charged into the race,
leaving some I knew in saddened state,
For what chance had they,
Who could not beat,
The odds laid bare for all to see.

The long-shot man had beat them so,
With blinders on and endless hope.
Yet race's end would see him fall,
With those who entered,
One and all.

For she it seemed,
Cared not for one who ran the race,
And so there lay in broken state,
With memories kept in bitter taste,
A mound of broken hearts and graves.