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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Holiday · #1730758
Recalling the excitement of childhood & ice skating in the brisk winter air

We had no measure of fear
We had only our gleeful shouts
We skated faster and faster
As the circle of frost grew smaller…
And more of the frozen half acre
Gleamed in the winter moon

Skating briskly down the road
Across ice-kissed snow
Stopping to ease-drop on old creaking oaks
Shedding their chilly white branches
While the smell of pine
Burned in the brisk barren distance

Ghostly puffs of breath steamed from our nostrils
And chimney smoke rose like cotton into an indigo sky
Brushing the day’s snow from our weary knees
The night spreads her gentle arms across our tired faces
As clear fragile streams cracked and flowed
With a sound more peaceful than

Until again…
The grind of our scraping blades
Cut the frosty floor beneath our feet.

Gliding home in a dance upon nature’s glass
With heaven’s winter biting at our noses
And our scarves waving like burning flags
Fiery red in the frosty air

Warm and snug in bed now…
The day’s graceful glide still tingled in our toes
While the frigid wind wrapped at our windows
We could swear we could still hear…
The scraping sound of our skates
Out on the ice…
Just outside,
In a haunting


Words by John Apice (aka LaStrada)
C-Copyright 1983 – House of Apice Poetry
© Copyright 2010 LaStrada (lastrada at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates have been granted non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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