he’d skied all his life
some said like a pro
he liked the feel of
skis under his feet
the wind in his face
the crunching sound
of the crusty snow
the freedom of it all
the getaway time
from the hassles of
his hard driven life
drunk on the slopes
he skied erratically
lost control of skis
into a deadly tree
his skiing days
his forty years of
life gone forever
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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