slipping over the ice.....

(Note: wht follows is fictional matter)


Out in one cold morning I to a walk on the feet
Treading the stepping stones that make up the street
Before me a snow shower has blanketed the show
And ahead there lay a road telling me where to go

So I strode with joy carelessly over the walk
Lest I knew tht I would soon be the street talk
One feet fell confidently over the hard ice
i went slipping through the country with the speed of a mice

I recall my hours spent floating in the moist atmosphere
The sky hung over me and the ground so far below that i didnt even care
But could I remember the landing on shore ?
That memory seems to have slipped away out of the door

Though I do recall spending hours lying in the fields
Wondering about african farmers harvesting their yields
After decades of contemplation a passerby lent me a hand
And Then I began to wonder what I was doing on this hard cold land.

The cold of the ground took much longer to creep
But by then i was cozy in the warmth of my keep
And I still wonder what it felt to slip on the hard ice
when time flew as a slow as a turtle and as fast as a mice.

-him...