An Epitaph

He spoke with his feet
swift and ever so fleet
 
his legs were in flight
his pace was a delight
 
the track, he ruled
the records, he annulled,
 
his life was rife
with rile, his life
 
so bereft, his life,
soundless was his life
 
he was king of the race
all worshipped his pace
 
his life was trackless
his life was tactless,
 
he jumped, all lept,
he fell and slept,
 
he was never to be
the king of the race
 
none now sees his face
the king of the race



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