Martin Holm Sjölin (89-01-29 / Stockholm)
And the last click clicks.
And the strap is tight around my ankle.
I stand up and pushes the leg towards the side.
Off I go.
The first few strokes are hard, but after ten or something it feels natural.
Even when the roads leads up to a hill, it fells good.
And then the wonderful feeling.
So I crouch down and puts one foot behind so I a get balance.
The speed makes me smile,
And the wind makes my eyes wet,
Maybe I'm crying, but it's from joy.
The joy of feeling the wind blow trough your hair,
And the joy of seeing the ground rush under you.
And then I stand up and spreads me arms like I'm about to fly.
The wind grabs me and I smile.
This is the joy of skating
Comments about this poem (The joy by Martin Holm Sjölin )
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