A poem. Because it's been . . . you know . . . hours since my last one!
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| My Sister. She only looks tough. |
In youth, I was a daring sort,
A heedless, reckless charge-right-in.
In games, activities and sports,
In all events, through thick or thin.
My sister, she of softer mien,
Would often follow where I led.
On dusty trails or tracks unseen,
The paths where ‘Angels fear to tread’ . . .
Upon Montana’s ski slopes there,
A smooth trail
beckoned through the woods.
A path, the incandescent
air,
Promised everything that’s good.
But I’m a cowgirl to my toes,
Even up upon the mountain side,
I had one speed and t’wasn’t slow.
My sister’s caution, I’d deride.
Spectacular and
fast, my run,
I made a final, breathless stop.
Then waited for my Chris to come,
And happily scanned the mountain top.
She didn’t show, I’m sure you’ve guessed.
She’d fallen, twisted up her knee.
And now her holiday was messed
Cause she’d been trying to catch me.
One summer, as we headed home,
Bedecked in prairie dust and grime,
From checking through the herds that roam,
(And it was nearing supper time).
The lot fell to my sister there,
To man the gate so we’d get through.
She finished the small task with flair,
Re-mount was all she had to do.
But as she slipped her foot into
The stirrup, something went awry,
Impatient me had spurred my horse
And off t’ward home this goose did fly.
My sister’s horse did start to run
And spilled her owner in the dirt
A badly injured
knee (not fun),
And for my Sis, a world of hurt.
The message that I’ve tried to frame
In my telescopic,
silly way,
Is: We all know the one to blame
And who the piper is we pay.
If adventure’s what you crave,
If, into sports, you plow headfirst,
Remember: Though they may seem brave,
Avoid the cowgirls. They’re the worst!
To Avoid Boredom and/or Writer's Block: Use Words.
You know what? It works!
This week's words?
Telescopic, injured, frame, smooth, incandescent, spectacular
Try it and see what I mean!
