Thorsten  Gieseler Thorsten Gieseler


It is cold,
The snow and ice present a formidable foe.
I fear not,
My trusty steed is ready for the race today.
I have trained,
Day in, day out, but nothing prepares me for The Hill.
It is steep,
But the off-camber section is what I fear.
The run up,
This is where the pain starts.
My legs burn,
My lungs feel as though they will bust.
I continue on,
Yet the fear returns.
I stare down,
Looking at the bottom of The Hill.
The ice glistens,
It hides the rocks below.
I am flying,
My bike navigates down The Hill.
As I turn,
I fall, quickly hitting the ice below.
I slide across,
The icy field.
Abruptly I wince,
As the rocks stop my descent.
The audible snap,
I break a rib.
The Hill stands,
Tall and true a force that I do not comprehend.
The Hill
by Vincent Mysliwiec

Stefanie Paul, WC Zeven 2017

This website uses cookies to ensure the best experience possible.