Over The Snow I Flew Poem by Shaun Cronick

Skiing is a sport I love,
My outdoor togs I don.
And hop into my car to find,
Some snow to ski upon.

The other night was glorious,
The air was crisp and clear.
The sky was full of tiny clouds,
Softly floating mighty near.

The moon was shining bright as day,
As over the snow I flew.
The stars were twinkling brilliantly,
They seemed to like it too.

I skied down the golden path,
Like a fairy tale of old.
But when I reached the end I found,
There was no pot of gold.