08-27-2011, 10:19 PM
Freezing cold crystalline tomb
Far removed from a warm motherís womb.
Five tons of snow to prevent his release
Piled onto the casket. May he rest in peace.
Rest in peace! I donít think so!
This man is at work in the deep Mammoth snow.
Facing white death he plans to escape.
The clock is ticking. Will it be too late?
He picks the cuffs but his fingers so cold
Are having a hard time just keeping hold.
He frees his limbs. Houdini would be proud
As the tension mounts in the on looking crowd.
Now comes the hard part, the icy wet snow,
Holding him down six feet below.
As he fights his way out an inch at a time,
I wonder what thoughts are going through his mind.
There must be some fear that gets pushed back.
There must be thoughts of his plan of attack.
Whatever the process, he is a master,
For he always manages to avoid disaster.
Eventually we see it, a hand emerges,
As the rest of the snow he removes and purges.
The crowd, as always, bursts triumphantly,
As he smiles and thanks them for their loyalty.
Life is but a series of memories you make.