SOUND POEM DH FALL 84
COLD
The sharp blade of a skate
Grated and scraped
And slipped, twisting
on the ice,
as the kid whizzed by
Swirling in circles and figures of eight
He thought that it was great
Till he slipped and fell
and slid on solid ice.
Cold...Hmmm....sounds like a good way to describe my family.
