THE MOUNTAIN
We looked up at the mountain peaks
and longed to be young once more,
We could see the steep climbs, gullies
and chimneys to tackle galore,
Oh, to put on climbing boots and feel
a strong rope firm around us
As we struggle to the top of the mountain,
climb it without a fuss.
Looking a little closer, there maybe
some easy paths up there,
The way would take a lot of effort
in the rather thin air.
But to feel again the exhilaration
of conquering a climb,
Overcoming the fear, but winning,
then to see the sun shine
Way down in the valley, see so far
it turns to mists,
Not worrying too much about the heart beat,
or very sore fists
From the struggle to find safe hand holes
on that hard rocky face.
O to do that one more time, even if
at a much slower pace
Than we did fifty years ago when
we were both very young.
If we had more time to stay here,
O mountain so strong,
You would beckon us to climb you and
we would just have to go,
I wonder how many would smile
as up we struggle so,
One day we may return once more
and let the mountain beckon.
Then we would climb you even if it took
all day until we had won.

M Ann Margetson October 21, 2001