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May 18, 2015
The climb so steep,
as if to Everest’s shelf.
Each step, a journey
in itself,
as familiar memories
flood the mind,
when we recall good times,
as we unwind.
All relived, as if
just only heard;
Old fables told,
word for word.
Well maybe some,
exaggerated,
just a little
now we elated,
as fire and passion,
from the heart,
revived the battery,
with a jump start.
But the reality,
now truth be faced,
to discover one,
is so outpaced.
And not as fit
as other climbers,
who’ve headed off,
and left old timers,
to arrive there
at their steady pace,
like losers in
a marathon race,
when all the leaders
wait in vain,
to greet the stragglers;
half dead with pain,
who staggered in
dishevelled and windswept,
on all fours,
with eyes that wept.
But, oh the view,
when at the top.
A breath to catch;
heart beats clip-clop.
The quest achieved,
to reach Peel Tower:
Cometh the man,
cometh the hour.
And the descent,
such a thrill,
on reaching the bottom
of Holcombe Hill.
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