The Secret of Ice

You welcome me with an air of coldness that only I can understand. My loyalty to you is known only by a certain few. As I arrive the stench of my equipment seems to permeate the vapeur that rises from the pond. As my stick touches the puck I realize that I am not alone, my secret is there waiting for me to make a move an unexpected play. My skates cut into the Ice as if I am about to tell all. As I open my mouth the words are silent all that I hear is the language of the Ice. The reflection of the lights become a red carpet as if an announcement is about to be made, I look around and see the jocks in the grandstand applauding with their hockey sticks encouraging me on to the centre of Ice. The snow falling seems to be a prelude to a moment that is waiting to happen. I continue skating around the arena as the wind carries me ever so close to the centre, I pause and listen as the roar of the boys seems to be in unison with their hockey sticks moving in a synchronized motion. What do I do make a pass, maybe a break away , shoot the puck and if I score the truth in the net will it be applauded or booed . For this period it is The Secret of the Ice.