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No Way I am Going Home Empty Handed

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He stands there, cold, nervous,
Waiting for the signal to start,
The thought of first place running through his head.
“Rider dropping in three, two, one”...And He is off.

Speeding down the slope,
Focusing on the jump,
Thinking how this will turn out.
Making sure he has the right speed,
Also that this jump will be his friend, not his enemy.

He goes off the jump,
His faces shrinks into plastic,
Body curved on the end.

In the air, flying like a bird,
He lands, sliding across the snow,
He is one with the snow.





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