That Old Wooden Sled (poem)

Then during one winter’s first snow, many years hence
Memories creep back in, flooding your senses, your reality
Cutting wind on your face, your fingers tingling with blue
The first gasp of horror as you throw yourself down the hill
Screaming till your lungs could burst, then crashing into a pile
Laughing as you gather your strength and trudge back up that hill

In the corner of the garage, out of sight, out of mind
Behind discarded boxes, old sheet of wood, bags of pop cans
Forgotten during the heat of summers, the thrill of springs
Tossed into that corner still coated with snow, mud, ice
That last harrowing ride down suicide hill clinging to its reputation
Faded glory with rusting runners, the wood cracked splintering

Memories of youth in days when television held no games
Of forgotten times when you could do foolish stunts of folly
The snow deepens as you wander looking for that sled
Tossing out trash accumulated in the year, waste of want of need
Then you glimpse the faded wood, a rusted runner sticking out
Telltale bits of red still show, the seat worn from use

You take that sled, lovingly sand down the wood, fixed the cracks
The bare wood is as smooth as the day it lay under that Christmas tree
Using steel wool you work the steel runners till they gleam
The final element lies within a can of bright engine red enamel paint,
Carefully you recreate the childish scrawl with the name you christened
The “Crimson Warrior” is ready to fly again … in the corner of the studio


About jasterling

One part of my life is in the science of anthropology and archaeology where I did comparative work. My other life that I am now pursuing is writing along the lines of fantasy/sci fi fictional writing as my one way to stay sane in this other insane world. Please enjoy the selections you will find in my blog.
This entry was posted in Christmas, general information, Poem, Poems, poetry, winter, write, Writer, Writers, writing and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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