My last figure 8 (fictional poem written in English class)

A figure eight is what I skate, upon the ice so clear.

I skate around with my friends, to me they are so dear.

We laugh, we sing, we spin around,
Until I fall and hit the ground.

Everyone crowds around me, stares at my tear-stained cheeks,
Someone calls 9-1-1, no my future seems so bleak.

An ambulance comes rushing over;
I’m being held over a medic’s shoulder.

On a gurney I now lay,
To the hospital! We’re on our way.

I think o myself this isn’t fair.
The embarrassment and pain is too much to bear.

I slip into a rocky sleep,
I awake to a steady machine beep.

The sun is shining; it’s a new day.
It was all a dream I think (and pray).

But no, my wish is not granted,
In this place (for weeks!) I am planted.

On Christmas Day I should be out,
So for now all I have to do is pout.

My only wish this holiday season,
Is to live and have a reason…

To keep on going, keep on living,
To continue to smile and keep on giving.

To remember this month forever and ever,
For this injury to be a lesson and a treasure!