Skiing Poem I wrote for school

Keith's love for snow
To nothing it came close
And no matter where he would go
Skiing would be the diagnose
Oh how he loved to ski
He had waited all summer
For his mountain's opening day
For sure not to be a bummer

A foot of light snow overnight
To be skied early in the morrow
Powder snow was any skiers delight
His parent's car he asked to borrow

He woke up that day
And picked up his friend
Thinking about the first run
They would descend

They made it to the mountain
What a glorious sight!
Tree limbs sagging from snow
To their left and their right

The two clipped into their skis
At the bottom of the lift
Decked from top to bottom
In their early Christmas gifts

Jared and Keith
Unloaded the chair
Keith went right
To Jared's despair

"Keith where are you going?"
He said with quizzical fear
"It's only the first run of year!?"

For to the right
Was a run called slot alley
Why waste the first run
On some groomed dilly-dally?
All Keith could think of
Was the fresh powder snow
The kind that excites
From here to CO

So Keith traversed on
To the black diamond run
Unaware
Of what was to come

The young skier reached the top
Of the steep pitched trail
Powdery face shots
Were soon to prevail

Three turns in
He heard a loud crack!
The next thing he new
He was on his back

Keith quickly realized
He was in an avalanche
He desperately grabbed
For a tree, rock, or branch

The avalanche swallowed him whole
Like a whale
Leaving behind
A cold bare trail

He came to a stop
Buried three feet under
In a grave like cement
"Will I live?" he wondered

He could not scream
For he knew
That he needed to save
His remaining air residue

The notion hit him
That he was to die
A single tear
Trickled out of his eye

There was so much left to do
For this young boy
But his life was taken
To no one's joy

When they heard the news
Everyone was dismayed
But to die doing what he loved
Was the only way