I've been climbing
for years, I think.
The callouses on my hands
(thick with regret)
keep score
as I search for handholds
in the cracked rock.
Hand then foot
then hand and foot.
It's hard work but
I should be almost there.
I just wish I could
remember what's at the top.
Maybe I'll fall
ReplyDelete--Probably will--
But you're there,
Above and below,
And I know you'll catch me
Should I let go.
So here I am climbing
--I can see your smile--
My hands reaching, feet grippping
And I think to myself
That I only climb so high
Because I want to freefall into you.
Love this poem, Silver!
ReplyDelete