Life, Story Time

Skiing and Bruises [Story Time]

I’ve just come back from skiing in Switzerland. It was amazing. And by ‘it’ I refer to Switzerland and the postcard-like prettiness of the snow-clad chalets, and the breath-taking wonder of the mountains. But my skiing? Ah. Well. Let me put it in really bad poetry for you:

you’d never guess but i became

a speed demon on twin instruments of pain

it was hard to turn so i did not

and skied straight down ’till i stopped

//

i might have bumped my noggin

i might have bruised my hip

i might have lost a camara

when on those slopes i slipped

//

it didn’t happen all at once

and i thought i wasn’t bad

but down the red i did speed

and on the blue i flew

//

soon, anon, i’d find myself

spread-eagled on the ground

and all my dignity and all my pride

were nowhere to be found

//

i’d be left with laughter

and a little bit of pain

but i’d say it was worth it

and was jolly glad i’d came

meonthefloor
(When you’ve fallen, you can’t be afraid of falling, BECAUSE you’ve already fallen. So you’re actually really quite safe.)

Forgive me for this butchering of poetry; I’m sure Poe would groan and invoke a raven.

Have a great weekend : )

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