Imaginary Snow

They say you should dance
as though no one is watching
and you should sing
as though no one is listening
so why not build snowmen
when imaginary snow is glistening
if your worlds collide
and seek out that dream inside
to prevent you falling apart?
Build up your courage,
and be only guilty
of following your heart.

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Early Retirement

 

When I first started climbing this mountain, I’d only a vague idea where the summit was, and my map was rubbish. I’d heard a few people had climbed it before but I didn’t know any of them personally then, they were just people in story books to be wondered at.

When I began hillwalking way back in the day, my first pair of boots really hurt. I mean, really hurt. I was later to find out that they were just wrong for me: wrong size, cheap leather, rubbish soles, everything designed to torture your feet. I almost gave up before I’d even started.

I went back to the shop to discuss my problems and discovered Goretex. Thank God for Goretex. My subsequent sets of footwear were slippers in comparison and I knocked off the smaller peaks as though on a summer stroll. This one’s been tough though despite the better footwear, and I even managed to get a better map though you might never guess it from the number of wrong turns I’ve taken. Still can’t quite make out the summit with the cloud and mist coming and going.

It’s not as bad as tramping in New Zealand where the maps had a helpful warning, ‘subject to change’, written across the contours. I think even Mt Cook had changed height the year before I was there! Not much fun when the mountains change around you as you try to climb the bloody things. Made it interesting I suppose, more of a challenge.

Back home now though and this bloody climb I started so long ago. Now almost everyone I know has mastered its peak, though most of them got some sort of chairlift to the summit, lucky bastards. I’m going to have to walk all the way on my own, under my own steam, as always.

But maybe not. When I did my mountain leadership course I was always told to know when to turn back. Getting to the top wasn’t more important than you or your party’s safety and, if you enjoyed walking, wherever you got to was going to be enjoyable anyway. And there were usually good views from any height as long as you stopped to look at them.

So I stop on the ridge and have a good look around me. A large bird of prey swoops past, hunting for its young family, paying no attention to me. I can see a small herd of deer down in the glen, absent mindedly grazing, breath just visible in the cool air. It’s quiet, perhaps faint noises from other parties climbing ahead, and below. I neither see them nor care any more if I’m ahead of them or behind.

I think I can see the summit rising above the clouds in the distance, but it’s actually really nice here, right where I am. And besides, my knee’s twitching a bit and the blister on my right heel has burst. It’s been a good climb this far, not many even get onto the ridge far less scramble along to the top. So maybe I should just go back down. After all, I heard there’s a storm coming from down south, snow and blizzards likely. I wouldn’t want to be stuck up there caught up in the middle of that.

 

(Daily Prompt: Not everyone want to stay in it for the long haul.)

Union

With my fingers all a quiver
She sings
And we begin our merry dance.
What wondrous chance
Has sought us two out
To come together in this way.
And soft sounds silence the air
As we sway as one
Entwined, a love so rare
My heart-strings pulled, stretched, fulfilled,
Overcome as we ignore all other types.
There’s just me, with you,
My fingers dancing
On my Irish pipes.

My Voice

Finding my voice, in this choir of calamity,
each chorus a mystery,
singing parts I can not reach
is a task I’ve been set

by choristers and masters alike,
demanding I find it, own it,
look for it in places I find hard to seek,
so fail

and instead settle into
my comfort zone, humming, drone,
soft circle of my personal scale
and feel some nurture there.

Tooth Fairy

She’s my darling, my love
And it comes to us all,
That moment of truth
When you have to stand tall
At the indignity
Of losing a tooth.

I comforted, I cuddled
I wiped away tears
I said you’re a big girl
Of many brave years
And there’s the Tooth Fairy
We’ll give that a whirl.

So she hugged me
And she loved me
And we had our nice fix
Though I tell you right now,
There’s no bloody Tooth Fairy
She’s gone 46!

Itch

You asked me (straight)
to write a rhyme
about an itch I could not scratch.
I told you (straight)
I spent no time
writing of such things;
only feelings of love,
or hate.

Though inside my mind I have an itch
which signs its name as ‘dark’.
It tells me I stink (I scratch)
wrong things to think (I scratch)
leaves no visible mark as I scratch
and as I stretch and reach for it, it moves,
dangling love in my face
and laughs loudly at my fate.