Skiing

Skiing

I stood on top of the ski run,

my cushioned legs warm in the cold.

I could see the snowflakes were gently fluttering down from the heavens, 

each one a unique shape.

I held out my tongue, 

tasting the icy cold of the snowflakes floating down on my tongue.

I could feel my gloveless hands gripping the hard metal of the ski pole,

warm against my touch.

The smell of fresh air filled my nostrils as I breathed deeply.

Every breath I took crystalized and was swept away.

The clang clang of the ski lift and the chatter of the people filled my ears.

Tall trees loomed over and branched out like an angel with its wings spread.

The gentle wind, soft and lively, 

brushed against my face and blew my hair back.

Graceful figures made beautiful S turns down the hill, 

spraying the soft snow into the air.

The bright sun stood in the sky casting golden rays.

From the soft baby blue sky,

to deep underwater where fish fly through the water,

to the towering mountains topped with ice and snow.

Taking in the beautiful scenery,

As I drowned out the voices,

I realized,

that I was finally home.