November 14, 2008
I stand at the top of a shimmering white slope,
Fear wells up now and I'm trying to cope.
I see all the people who now have a lead,
so I push myself forward, and start picking up speed.
I carve down the mountain, powder flying in my wake,
I overflow with excitement as the day's mine to take.
I now catch up and pass all my friends,
I conquer this alp, all it's curves, all it's bends.
I feel as if freed, not a care on my mind,
as the wind bites my face though the day is so kind.
I approach the end of my liberating ride,
and I am so thankful it's something I tried.
I come to a stop and look up at the peak,
as it looms over me I simply can't speak.
I consider doing it over to be freed just once more,
because that is a feeling I can't help but adore.
I know I can't as the day is burned out,
so all I can do is turn to my mountain and shout.
I release my excitement and the day catches me,
but reality is far off, it's only something I just can't see.
I turn my back to the artwork I left in the snow,
I am so happy, I am forced to show.
I hope to return to my canvas as soon as I can,
to me that is really just a perfect plan.

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