The landscape was littered with colors of blue, green and yellow.
The latest casualty caused by a fourteen year old fellow.
The run was fast, the ground solid and packed.
He set off at a speed too quick to catch.
He hit the jump, flying several feet in the air.
It knocked the wind out of him as his mother said a prayer.
He stood triumphantly, his arms flung high in victory.
The blue plastic sled though, was now history.
We looked at the others sadly left on the hill.
Used and abused, then abandoned after having lost their thrill.
The boy tossed his sled beside the others.
His sister shrugged, “Oh well, we’ll just get another.”
Not a tear was shed at this white covered graveside.
Because after all, they’re sleds and really, there’s no need to cry.