Poetry in motion

The Lord of the Snowy White Mountain

Standing on top, by the fountain,
He looked at the snow all around him,
And then with a gasp,
He saw him at last,
The Lord of the snowy white mountain.

Michael I charge you to go,
And race through this new fallen snow,
So without further a do,
On his snowboard he flew,
Towards the finish line down below,

As the forest cleared he could see,
A skier who'd injured his knee,
He heard a scream and a yelp,
So stopped off to help,
With a splint he fashioned from a tree,

They both then climbed back onto the snowboard,
With Michael at the helm they soared,
In and out of the trees,
With relative ease,
To the hut where the first aid was stored,

Michael left the skier in good hands,
And returned to his original plans,
To complete the race,
Even at this slow pace,
And so he set off again over the lands,

He did finally reach the end,
And was greeted by a familiar friend,
Who stood out in the snow,
His face all aglow,
With a welcoming hand to extend,

Michael I challenged you to a race,
And to begin with you kept a good pace,
But then you came to a halt,
'though it wasn't your fault,
I'm afraid your time's a disgrace!

However, Michael my friend,
I can no longer pretend,
Since you did what was kind,
And had others in mind,
The truth is you won in the end!