Watching the athletes play during that wild, tumbling day my emotions gyrate and sway with each word that you say.
The safe, little games that go on within and without you and I begin to doubt you too and I begin to pout and you reach out, to…
Although little is said throughout, the rules we know without which we’d have to face this scary little place, head us down the padded trail to the launching pad post-haste.
That moment comes too quick when the rules give out to fear and anger pulls away the tear that lurked so very near as we fight against the forces that keep us down here.
We want to soar every moment above the rules, the cruel thoughts that we pass back and forth like snowballs up north.
But we don’t want to think about giving away the gold the heart which sucks in blood cannot pump enough on days this cold.
The landing is decided by time as the forces pull us quick we could tumble once more but the padding might not be that thick.
So we huddle together in the end and it fades like Olympic memories which blend together, in the head but that flight will always be a highlight.