The race

The race


Soft winds blow over grassy hills, i'm racing to the top.
Out of breath and tired, I know I must not stop.

Looking back, the fields are clear, no one there behind.
I know they’re not too far away, I feel them in my mind.

No one knows the agony i put my body through.
Racing over grassy fields, wet with morning dew.

My steps are getting shorter, my heart is pounding hard.
I’m worried they are gaining, with every gruelling yard.

Wind swept hills, woodland dales, undulating moors.
Don’t give up i tell myself, you’ve done this all before.

The sun peeps over hilltops, leaves glisten on the trees.
I’ve tried my best to beat them, but they’ve brought me too my knees.

I’m lying here bedraggled, I just can’t carry on.
My heart is all so weary, for me the race is done.

I prick my ears and listen, I hear that awful sound.
The huntsmen they are coming, it’s the baying of the hounds.


J.A.K