by Margaret Mather
It was a fairytale scene, lights twinkly and bright,
Ice shining, inviting, I thought that I might
Take a spin around the rink, feel the wind in my face,
Exciting, dangerous, I accelerated my pace.
My confidence picked up, I quickened my speed,
I felt invincible, alive, in control and in the lead.
Eyes watched in envy as I flew round and round,
Disbelief that I could skate to the sixties’ sound.
I was flying now, confidence oozed from every pore.
People were clapping and shouting — more, more, more.
I skated and sang with my hands shoved in my pockets,
My skating boots felt as if they were attached to rockets.
A sweet wrapper on the ice was the ruin of me.
My skates stopped dead, I fell on one knee.
Throwing my arms out, I tried to prevent the crash,
Into the railings I went with a terrible smash.
I broke an arm, grazed a knee, hurt my pride,
Felt as if pins were sticking right into my side.
Maybe at sixty I should slow down a bit.
But where’s the fun in that? A girl’s got to keep fit.