Glen
Shee Head.
At
the beginning spittle,
At
the end, spittle on lip.
Climbed
I, heartily to sky,
Where
all of worlds deny,
What
could become our ally.
Sweat
beads on brow,
Rivulets
of torrents fill the byrne.
Snow
only an hour away,
And
winter chills collide,
Filling
the void with icy calm.
Views
like you wouldn't believe,
High
in the clouds of life.
Taken
away in aching bones,
The
stress of life, way below.
All
I see is radiant in joy,
My
heart is filled again,
I
am still that little boy.
Captured
by the awe of size,
Everything
amazes before my eyes,
Glen
Shee has come, a great surprise.
No comments:
Post a Comment