They glide across the ice like silk,
Then
leap and twirl and spin,
Their
bodies molded to the perfect
Shape
that they are in.
Their
costumes sparkle in the lights,
The
music sets the tone
As
every skater claims the ice
As
his or hers alone.
The
years of training culminate
In
one routine, one chance
To
prove to all the judges
They’re
the ones who should advance.
I
always feel so bad when
On
the road to reach the top,
Someone’s
nerves kick in and suddenly,
We
witness a ker-plop.
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