The Little Things

The Little Things
by Dan Ankers

A million little hands, holding me up
a heavenly host of cheers to wave me on
the prayers of all the hopeful...
when these are gone
and all is silent
and you are no longer there
with your scarf, waving in the air
No tears as I race to the finish line...
I strain to find the meaning behind it all

What was the point behind the parties
and the celebration
the mounting swirling tides
of jubilation
and the pointed metal hat, some called a crown
as they placed it on my head,
in coronation?

Without those loving hands to guide me there
And the voices of those who long believed
that a man like me, could do anything,
Anything at all
Without them, I am nothing but a fool
running toward a flag,
held on a pole.

It was all those many things,
which made that goal
A worthwhile goal
Without them, I am naked sitting here
Alone
Stripped of all the dignity of such a task
Without them,
and most of all without her,
no matter how I place
I will never have that old smile upon my face
No matter how many races I may win
And no matter how many people's best attempts
I pass
No matter what the race reporters ask
I will know within my heart,
That I must have placed Dead Last.