Tan Morgan

Ice Rink

The rink, like a disc of frosting
In a baker's display,
Was encrusted with children -
Three hundred hats on three hundred heads,
Gloves grasping edges,
Feet skidding, bruises blooming,
Slowly they circled...

All but one boy, who stepped onto the ice
like a swan coming home,
glided to the centre,
smiled, spun,
spread his arms
and flew.

Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 20, 2007
Poem Edited: Monday, May 2, 2011

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Comments about Ice Rink by Tan Morgan

  • Malini KadirMalini Kadir (1/3/2008 11:07:00 PM)

    Ice rink was........lovely verse
    Was as is a scene's unfold! ! in words rolled...
    Slowly circling into vision....

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