Good Times

October 12, 2010
By Anonymous

Saylor was her name,

I was eight, she was nine

She was my



That would always be mine.

It was her birthday,

And we were going Ice Skating,

It was that one day,

That we were waiting for.
We could hardly wait!

Couldn’t eat our break feast,

Theres no dilly-dallying at this rate,

And the last thing we wanted to do was s l e e p . . . .

By that time, we were out the door,

Into the car, seat belts on,

We drove there, birthday confetti on the floor,

The balloons were popped and gone.
The rink was clear and ready,

But first, make sure your skates fit,

Be sure to go slow and steady,

Because it hurts when you take a hit.
But of course we were only eight and nine,

And we usually didn’t listen to the rules,

They told us to skate a straight line,

But once again, we were fools.
She spun and I swerved,

I cut left, she cut right,

She swiveled and I curved,

Now crashing, but were alright.
More and more people came,

They were hard to dart,

But dodging them was such a game,

We were off to a great start.
Something caught in Saylor’s skate,

And she started slipping and stumbling,

She tried to catch herself before it

was too late,

But she ended up fumbling.
SMACK! she went into the side,

Trying to catch her self again,

She fell back because her feet

went too wide.
Out rushed her mom taking her off

the ice,

Saylor was laughing but in pain at the

same time,

She offered to go back out, which was nice,

We still had cake on which to dine.
“RAWR!” roared our tummies as we sat

down to eat,

A princess on top, and candles all lit,

Chocolate ice cream is always a treat!

Was there any left over? NOT ONE BIT!
There were piles of presents,

Stacked higher and higher,

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