Singed Synapses and Deranged Dendrites

The Ice Storm (#ice)

She stepped out on the ice.
It looked so nice.
The world after a storm.
It wasn't the norm.
All sparkle and crystal.
So off like a pistol...

She stepped out on the ice.
Not thinking twice.
There was danger and woe.
Along with the snow.
So eager was she.
And then she went 'weeeee.'

She stepped out on the ice.
Like rolling the dice.
Russian roulette.
For the frail lady set.
Things didn't look good.
Or go as they should.

She stepped out on the ice.
As if in a vice.
Her hip snapped in two.
What can you do?
When you fall down at eighty.
And fall rather weighty.

She stepped out on the ice.
But her life got some spice.

Bump down the stairs.
Her pants got some tears.
Despite the disaster.
She needed no pastor.
The firemen hustled.
All hunky and  muscled.

She stepped out on the ice.
They looked so nice.
The men that saved her.
A masculine blur.
Her heart pumped with desire.
Till they left for a fire.

They'd took her to get,
A new hip–twas no sweat.
With the surgeon (good-looking).
A date she was booking.

               On that day...

She stepped out on the ice.