Poor Loser Poem by Bryan Taplits
Poor Loser
The race is lost-although I ran,
And when I did I flew,
I won some swag-but 'Oh, so what, '
The prize I yearned was you.
Now its late in this race-
The hurdles way too high-
It does not matter that once I flew,
What matters now: I fly.
Remember me, though I be passed,
(I guess this race is through) ,
For the race I now run
I lost long ago-
It was lost when I lost you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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10/31/2025 6:36:55 AM # 1.0.0
