Swords sing from their scabbards
guard relays the call to close and double
trumpets blare
then all is dust and thunder
as for higher ground you chase!

Satin and fine silk
under the velvet of the day
are pressed to leather
your heart leaps to pushing blush
then lopes, oh that remembered loping!
Oh, the smile then on your face

So what of armour
what of keeping center
what about this race?

My gloves weren’t sewn
for passing reins
you’ve ever told the ranking steel
and now you shout to send word forward:
Speed, or I shall set the pace!

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