White
Were the paths this morning
A thick veneer of frost was the gift
I knew I was in trouble straightaway
As the heel of my shoe began to lift
In a second my direction had veered somewhat
As an unladylike skid I performed
Only coming to a halt face to face with a wall
Colourful graffiti in glory adorned
I never was very good at skating
Vivid memories of when I visited a rink
Skates at least four feet apart, a bottom plonked on the cold
Enough to have driven me to drink
Tots aged two were the little experts
Miniature Torvill and Dean's make no mistake
And there was poor me hanging on to someone's arm
So if I went down, you know who I would take!
