The detained reaction of a trained greyhound
Was withheld through motionless retirement
A frail man whose constant destination to begin
Kept his blood circulated and his legs on a whim
The crowd’s response of elation to his arrival at the start
Pumped eyelids open shut till his spine touched his heart
With blinking eyes drying as he quickened up his pace
For the annual countless stretch he felt the wind grab his face
Though a patch of time did vanish, he’s unable to recall
The day he made the finish line and plundered, lost it all
His contented spirit discarded by his striving lean exterior
Though the repetitious security left him lifelessly inferior