Bound at the Base

February 17, 2011
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We started out in the dark
as to where we would lift off to;
just silently looking forward
in those first click-clack moments.

Sliding and stumbling first,
then new found ways to stay up.
It took little time for ice to be broken,
carved up by our sharp edges.

Keeping each other warm,
despite frost bite and whistling winds,
our paths impeccably intertwined
as we simply enjoyed the rush.

I would do my tricks
and you would do yours.
Acts of nonchalance
covered true admiration.

But pain was inevitable,
an inescapable truth.
It could not be forever,
just me and you.

As the end approaches
and our times melt away,
I am left bound at the base
while you complain of cold feet.

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