I awake and I am ready for this day
I slip on my shoes and walk out the door
I know this day won’t be a great bore
The noise of wheels, bearings, this is my way
A wonderful time in the month of May
The cool breeze blowing as I start to sore
How many hours can I? Maybe four?
I am just beginning, what can I say?
The littlest pebble will make me fall
My blue jeans torn, what more can I really do?
Hours and hours of flipping, spinning
I look down, a giant hole in my shoe
Skateboarding is best to do in spring
Flip and spin fast, almost like a birds wing
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"I know this day won’t be a great bore." This is what I would call a throw-away line. There's nothing really of value in it, but it fits the poetry form. It's a wasted opportunity; what other sensory detail could you use to give a more clear picture of the freedom and beauty of a day spent skating? 9
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