Saturday, July 4, 2009

Mountaintop

The climber is poised on the precipice high,
His hair and his lips are touching the sky,
A climb very long has taken its toll,
And the top has been reached, as has his goal.
The winds whip high in the thin cold air,
No creatures or people make a stir there,
And taking it in, a lonely figure frowns,
For now he is considering, how to get down.

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