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Rare MAG

By Anonymous

    Looking out toward the horizon all I see is blue sky

down the hill snow, unpacked fresh virgin snow,

a smile starts to grow on my face as I feel my skis start to slide waiting until my speed

grows to savor my first tentative turns

loving every effortless movement until my smile opens and I start to scream I scream

for the pure joy of this release I feel as I speed down the hill walking the delicate line

that divides safety from reckless abandon

down I go completely alone still screaming with my unrelenting smile

wishing that this feeling would never end, the face shots, the powder flying

the trees I pass seem as though they were one blurry object no detail, no direction

the feeling begins to subside, though too quickly, just as all good things seem to do

my unrelenting smile relents, my scream returns to my chest, back to its home,

the virgin snow has been groomed into fine corduroy, I see my friends and say

"Better believe it's gonna be a good day"





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