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What a
rush, what a thrill,
As we travelled downhill,
On a sled made by our dear ol’ Dad.
It was twenty below,
As we played in the snow,
‘Twas the best time that we ever
had.
Making
forts from ice-blocks,
‘Till we froze our wet socks,
And our fingers were numb to the bone.
We just wanted to play;
We could stay there all day,
But our mother would call us all home.
We would take off our mitts,
And then we would sit,
And warm our cold hands by the fire.
We would dream of the day,
When we’d once again play,
Just thinking of what would transpire.
Those
days are now done,
And I miss them, each one,
I just hope that my kids feel the same,
As they travel downhill,
On a sled with a thrill,
Being children; just playing a game.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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