Wax rubbed onto runners
Polished smooth and bright
The four man bob were ready
To race that very night
An icy chill wind blowing
Their suits so very thin
Nine more teams to make the run
Before their team begin
They focused on their tactics
All visualized the turns
The pilot and the brake man though
Will know heat till it burns
© 2008 David Threadgold
Rambling Riddles & Rhymes
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem