The Mountain Again


Her lungs are strung with swirls of fresh air
Branches sway back and forth like a rusty door
And still, she triumphs forward upon the skyward stairs
Three thousand and five hundred feet
The mist sets its cloak but her closed eyes don't stray from the path
Instead her heart mulls over the fear of returning to her past
Her pace quickens as her soul starts to stream
So much closer than she's ever dreamed
Four thousand and two hundred feet
A quick glance behind to see who would believe
So close to the crest yet she loses her holding
Trees twisting and leaves lurking
Two thousand and six hundred feet
As she blunders, the heavenly bodies shriek with wild laughter
Once more a thud to the earthy floor
Her body weeps at the shadows that all point the same way
One thousand and three hundred feet

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem