The Race

He could feel the pounding heart in his chest,
Almost leaping out of his vest,
He could hear the pulse in his ears,
A rhythm calming his fears,
He was ready at the starting line,
Ready to leap off that line,
The sound of the gun ripped the air,
Now his legs would take him there.

He leapt forward with all his might,
Now began his flight,
He moved as fast as his legs would carry him,
Gliding, or so it would seem,
One leg before the other,
Faster and faster,
He dared not look back,
No need to see the chasing pack.

He kept with his run,
Surely, the race would be won,
He crossed the line first,
The time - his best,
He looked up and whispered a prayer,
Words of thanks to the saviour,
The race had been won,
The job had been done.