Marvin loved to practice skiing any time he could
He’d much prefer to be on skis
Than home and chopping wood
His family owned a massive ranch
Not his idea of fun
All day, herding cattle
Under baking sun
His dream was the Olympics
And on that indoor slope
He became quite expert
Gold medals were his hope
He saved up all his wages
To Switzerland he flew
The snows had fallen just in time
Deep and crisp and new
But if he had his time again
He might prefer the ranch
Instead of dead and frozen stiff
Beneath this avalanche
A Badly Chewed Pencil 
Brilliant as always. You put your cast to the sword in so many ways. Each night I pray that I don’t end up in one of your poems!
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Perhaps, Colin, you could be the Walter Mitty of Cripenunderfelt poems?
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Crispin would find some way of killing me that exceeded my own imagination
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He is quite creative, for sure.
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Colin, I could always work you into an episode of Thompson’s Plimsole. Far less deaths in that story.
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But I can’t hop!
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People always say, “You live in Colorado and you don’t go skiing?” Now I can just show them your poem as my excuse.
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I struggled to remain upright on roller skates. I can’t imagine that I would have any more of a chance to remain vertical on skis!
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lol. Some people are better balanced than me.
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Does that mean that you are slightly unbalanced?
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Er, (blither, blither) why do you ask?
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