Poetry By Chuck



When the long knives of winter slice to the bone;
And an Arctic chill surrounds you while you roam;
When the daggers of Old Man Frost chill to your toes;
that's when its hard to get going...God knows!

Outside the bike sits in the rain,
Covered and protected but I long for a ride.
Out where the wind brings fingers of pain,
and every breath seers skin inside.

Someone make a tire that grips,
One that even ice can't slip.
Someone make boots that protect,
Otherwise its another weekend of regret.

Dare we challenge the inevitable cold?
Dare we risk the weather and be bold?
Or do we flounder in football and beer..
...chips, dips, and favorites cheer!

Alas! Poor Yurick! I knew him well.
He's the sucker who slipped and fell.
You know the one, who said: "It can't be me!"
Now he's frozen to a tall pine tree.

Ah! I wonder where could this thread...
Be taking us...whats ahead?



Not much, for you see...
I'm probably staying home...watching the TV!!!!

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