I almost sneezed my brains out just now. My bloody body has failed me again: it got sick. Mom is feeling all guilty because she was sick first and thinks she made me sick. I figure who really cares who made who sick? I have an early meeting scheduled with my bed tonight. I think our dear friend nyquil shall visit us as well.
Now on to the beginning of my promised poem:
I was four when I first
learned to skate. Mom
wrapped my long maroon
scarf around my face to keep
out the frostbite, tugged three
pairs of thick socks on my
four-year-old feet, and with a
gentle pull, tied my skates
firmly. On the ice, I was a
disoriented frog. Feet flying
from side to side, my theory
was that if I went fast enough
I would not be able to fall
down. I soon discovered that
skating in circles was over
rated, and that there were
much more intriguing
possibilities below the ice. I
lay on my snow pants and
coat padded stomach with my
mittened hands cupped
around my eyes, looking for
fish. I thought that if there
were fish in the pond in the
summer, they must surely
still be there in the winter.
Eventually the rowdy
neighbor boys wanted to play
hockey and my nose got cold,
so I left, disappointed not to
find fish in the frozen pond.
Tomorrow I will scramble it up. Hope you are all well and not sick like me.
5 comments:
I hope you get better. = ) Love,
Panda~
Hi Marge!
Ryan and Steph both say hi. And, if you didn't know, the teacher strike is over. Steph told me about the position opening up at Fraser Valley. She thinks it would be cool if you took it.
I dug your poem, by the way.
That's a good picture of you, too. Adorable.
isn't it neighbour?
quiet, Gabe.
why do you need to scramble it up? isn't it a poem already?
hope you're feeling better!
Post a Comment