I rise to my feet along with the rest of the room
Colors flash before my eyes
Temporarily blurring the vision I hold close
I hear shouts
Are they the good kind or
The ones I dread to witness?
The racing colors are long gone now
Disappeared into the early evening dusk
I shrink back into my chair
Washed away of color as well
An eternity elapses as I blink
The heaviest eyelids I’ve ever known
Nostalgic smells of victory
Enlaced in that of flat beer
And sordid cigarette butts
I’m breathing, but can’t remember
If I ever did before
I think I’m going to be sick
Yes, the consequences of losing. And now, the consequences of all of the dog tracks shutting down. Recently I've taken to singing "Camp Town Races" a little ditty from two centuries ago.
"Went to the races with my hat caved in, came back home with a pocketful of tin…"
Crowley County Series, Novels 4-6
An uplifting series with romance, mystery and suspense.
Join the people of Crowleyville as they face the challenges of small town life while struggling to welcome an influx of newcomers.
Jack London’s cousin writes a heartwarming, young adult story about the glory of life. It is also a heart-pounding adventure to a new and strange world.
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"Went to the races with my hat caved in, came back home with a pocketful of tin…"
Ron
Nostalgia can be a pretty bad thing because it deprives you of living your life in the present reality.
Sandie