A Day At The Races


My boyfriend was keen on The Races.

Colourful and exciting he told me,

with a fairground atmosphere.

I believed him. 

I expected a fairground as well

I don’t know why

perhaps he told me so

and I believed him.

It was muddy, very muddy.

All the colours were mud colour.

The horses ran past quickly once or twice each hour.

In between you could walk round

slipping and sliding in the mud.

There was no fairground, 

no atmosphere,

there was nothing.

He was miserable,

he’d lost money

even on his ‘each way’ bets.

You’ll be as surprised as I was to know 

that ‘each way’ does not mean win or lose.

It was cold, really, really cold.

He said I was miserable.

Of course I was miserable!

It started to drizzle.

“They’re under starters orders now!

Look they’re off.”

So was I,

I went home on the bus.


https://stephdaich3.wixsite.com/phoenix-z-publishing/post/a-day-at-the-races-poetry-by-lynn-white



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