Racing
Flag flutters, engine mutters.
Light goes out, the loud man shout.
Tyre smoke, wheelspin, down to turn one.
22 Drivers, the battle's begun.
Find your apex, feel the road.
But give some room, the sportsmans code.
Around the outside, like Senna with balls.
The track so narrow, surrounded by walls.
Darting around from pillar to post.
Flashing in your mirror as a V12 ghost.
You hear them around, their engines are loud.
You see one smoke, to the pitlane he's bound.
Fighting for hope, the thrill of the chase,
You're not even first, you're still in last place.
Not that you care, you climb up the hill,
The car that you drive, commandeered by your will.
You think of the flag, that one black and white,
The rear end a wayward giving the crowd quite a fright.
You lock up your rears, you forced to back in,
Not quite the way, you want your race to begin.
Patient on the throttle, you wait for release,
Progressing to the exit you pray for tractions peace.
You've made up a place, there's a guy on your six.
You've been pushing through the field, you're now in the mix.
Silent persuasion the car likes your style.
The race track is quite now, you're alone for a while.
Pitstop is calling, you must make your call.
Careful on entry, you don't want to fall.
You need a clean stop, you hope and you pray,
You need to be ready to get the best getaway.
Your pitstop is done and you light up your rears,
You think and you think but it's no time for fears.
You get back on track and you're delighted to see,
That your championship rival has been wrecked out by ME!