Sledding down the mountainous hill of snow,
The white flakes are dissipating apart.
As I slowly pick up the speed to go,
I move like a high-velocity dart.
The experience felt is of total joy,
The feeling of immaculate Winter.
I am going around on this great toy,
Like the world's fastest sprinter.
This wondrous invention that is the sled
Has caused fascination with the season.
The rush going on is beyond my head.
It is throughout the body without reason.
The cold is conquered by the warm jacket,
But it is not enough to stop Jack Frost.
My clothes are like a polyester bracket
But it cannot keep the freezing cold lost.
The sled is plastic but feels light as air.
I am as weightless as an astronaut,
But I am descending without a care.
When I want to stop the fast sled does not.
As my departure comes to a swift end,
I am going to fast, so now I fear
The consequences of the sled I send
Down the hill and into the strange and queer.
Your descriptions of the speed of the sled seem well thought out. I also found myself laughing at some of the comparisons that you used.
ReplyDeleteMatt, I had no idea you were such a poet. You probably didn't even know it. I like your choice of rhyme scheme, it differed from most. It was also a very detailed poem. Great Job.
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