My (somewhat) poem about rollerblading:
The cold, crisp, fresh, fall, air that surrounds you.
The feeling of almost flying.
Coziness in a old favorite sweater.
Seeing leaves of gold and red rush past leaping and frolicking.
Soaring in the air, rushing, almost like dancing in a special way.
Feeling the load of school slip of my shoulders somewhere on the way.
Closing my eyes and not caring how windblown my hair gets.
The magic roller blades can do to you is so much more than you think.