Ice Rink Poem by 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.
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4/25/2024 2:29:07 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Ice rink was........lovely verse Was as is a scene's unfold! ! in words rolled... Slowly circling into vision....