The Question

Again, I'm a HUGE Seabiscuit fan. This time written for George Woolf.

Like riding a canon,
But not made of steel.
Who could have known
This was how it would feel?

The muscles, they coiled,
A spring in his step.
Not powered by oil,
There was no misstep.

The gates, they flew open,
A pounding was heard.
Concentration had deepened,
Thoughts, they were spurred.

No misjudgment was made,
The plan was secure.
In need of no aid,
The power was pure.

The question was asked,
For once, it was answered.
It had been unmasked,
Only one left unanswered.

The muscles uncoiled,
The body, it flattened.
The blood, as it boiled,
The stride it had lengthened.

The muscles were tired,
The heart was alive.