The ChairliftMy bar goes up, my bar goes down.
I go around and around.
Making only a couple of sounds:
The drum of my motor,
The hum of my gears,
I'm only disturbed by a fat skier.
I ascend and descend the mountain everyday.
Up and down are the only directions I will sway.
Storm after storm I'm battered.
The cushions on my seat are tattered.
And finally I break with a clatter.
Only to be fixed by a man on a ladder.
Like a soldier on the battlefield,
I take blow after blow
Until I complete my mission
Of putting people on the mountain's snow.
[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2013 EDITION]
Copyright © 2002-2011 Student Publishing Program (SPP). Poetry and prose © 2002-2011 by individual authors. Reprinted with permission.