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Rider Gordon A Red Ball Of LightRising above the snow capped mountain tips. The time of day when the sun and stars meet Stiffly rising out of bed. My joints grinding like the gears of a clock. Moving slowly, each lace in hand, Loop to loop and pull. Nothing has changed, the same technique. As the door cracks open The cold air rushes in. Tightening and stinging my skin. Trudging through the snow and past the trees, Through the forest I go With the strange, yet relaxing feeling That I am home. |
[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.