Season of games; of horseshoes, tense as chess,
Close pony-friends together throw and run.
Retiring? Not Dash! Now could she confess
What she believes that AJ could have done?
For, 'gainst an Apple, the most fun of all
Would be to win! So Iron Pony's born.
A-swell her heart, Dash gallops through the course;
Just clips a barrel; hers still is the morn.
And still more, later – then does Rainbow fall:
Quite suddenly, this contest starts to pall,
For Autumn's leaf-run will add spice and sauce.
Who hath not seen three ponies on the line?
Twilight among them: AJ rolls a-ground:
She, laughing, careless; RD, too, thinks it so fine.
Her wings, though, useless: by her rival well bound.
Ay, she could win this still if half-asleep!
Pinkie and Spike inform us, as they look:
Noses in front! Cats' PJs! What of fudge?
E'er onward purple unicorn may creep:
Steady she trots, remembering her book;
Dash dreams of cider. Yes, small care she took.
"I tripped! That cheat!" The rules begin to budge.
Where are the songs of Fall? Hay, not this time.
So much is left to tell: no music, now.
No flying; no rainboom; to each her crime:
Signposts and bees: trot on, bold Forty-Two!
Then all at once their distant goal espied,
A multitude awaits them: one last spurt!
The rivals cross the finish line as one:
The verdict from on high is passed: "You tied!"
Who then the victor? Whose the bitter hurt?
"You both were last!" – and Twi was fifth! The dirt
Is suddenly nothing: "Come, friend, shall we run?"