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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,


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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