In his stall late at night
Barbaro dreams of taking flight.
He hears a sound and ****** his ears,
A comforting hum of distant cheers.
Glory was quick and oh so brief
In these quiet hours he seeks relief.
It helps to run that race again,
Cheers and praise in the world of men.
Those speedy gifts have been retired,
Thoughts of victories desired,
Put to pasture such an early age
Against the stall he kicks with rage.
Why won’t the people listen?
Those long lean legs still glisten,
Powerful force on powerful thighs
Wire to wire swiftly flies.
But never again given a chance,
To chase the breeze and do the dance.
This night the stall door was left ajar,
A finish line beckons from afar,
Nothing to stop his midnight flight,
Soaring faster toward the light,
Racing the wind, his ultimate test,
In the winner’s circle he comes to rest.