I don’t ski or snowboard anymore.
Time has taken its toll on my knees
and the mountain is just too unforgiving.
But if I had my way,
I’d be flying down those slopes,
with my goggles fogged and my breath
stolen by furious flurries of precious white gold.
Instead, I sit by a cozy fire,
my bones covered by a wool blanket,
my dreams tied to the frost outside.
Copyright © 2014 by Christopher Chaffin – All rights reserved