mind wanders elsewhere

Snow floats down lazily from the gun-metal grey sky,
A freight train lumbers slowly by on my building’s north side,
Frozen slushy parking lot divides us from a row of evergreens,
I stare at the snow, the train, the trees--taking in the entire scene.
My mind wanders elsewhere, dreaming of the round wall,
Re-living backside kick turns as the snow continues to fall,
Dreaming of tail taps and axle grinds on the metal coping six feet high,
Meanwhile the day drags by, so slowly that it makes me want to cry.
I roll-in from the shallow end, dip into the deep end pumping,
Hit the far wall, riding the concrete wave, my heart jumping,
The board stalls on the vertical wall at six or seven feet,
I lean on the tail, turn the nose one-hundred eighty degrees.
I lean on the front and ride down the wall, pump as I hit the flat,
Riding and praying that I don’t eat concrete, and it’s over just like that,
So simple so smooth, I just stayed on, didn’t do anything else,
Gave up on flippy tricks, the youngsters can have those to themselves.
I started hitting the walls, carving and pumping as I go,
Trying to ride like a surfer, trying to catch my flow,
Rolling in on the smooth banks, hitting the pyramids,
Getting four feet up on the wall, enjoying skating with my kids.
Carving the corners, two wheels off the ground,
Feels faster than hell, as my momentum spins me around,
Kind of under control, but a hair’s breadth from losing it all,
Riding out of the corner, trying to stay on, trying not to fall.
A pool/vert newbie just trying to have some fun,
Freezing my butt off right now, wishing for the sun,
Dreaming of warmer days, when I can regain my stoke,
Living in the Northern Hemisphere, many of you are in the same boat.
Gonna grab the nose on my kick turn, progress to tail tap next,
Come spring, the kids and I will break out some new decks,
But the damn snow keeps falling down, starting to accumulate,
Little E and I will have to settle for fingerboards, which we appreciate.
Thanks to Wormy13 of Georgia for that unexpected gift,
Cold winter nights sans skating suck--really needed that lift,
So we’ll finger-skate the giant half-pipe, take turns with the Caballero,
Wormy sent us five popsicles and three O.G.’s that fly straight as an arrow.
Come this spring, we’ll be barging the local park,
Four deep, from early morning until after dark,
Until then we’ll just do what we can to stay sane,
Keep the dream alive and keep fanning the flames.