Sitting on a mountain.


This mountain top has no sounds.
No distractions anywhere to be found.
I plant my feet on solid ground.
The sky is hidden behind nimbus clouds.


No human to be seen from this vantage point.
No voice to be heard;
I am mute, apart from my aching joints,
That crack in unison with my pain.
No energy left to voyage again, so here I will stay.


It’s a long way down without a bobsleigh,
So here I will stay; will I build myself a grave?
Or regain my pace and once more join the rat race?
Who is to know?  Who is to say?


The sunlight is fading to be replaced by half a moon;
Snow is all around, but this is no Billy Mack tune.
I am all out of prunes.
Provisions were all, gone too soon.


Water for air, but no meals to dine.
No rescue helicopter flies up above me in the skies.
Water for eyes, but no scrap for me to build a sledge.
It’s a long way down to have no regrets.


Holding on to staying alive; tent is waving, I am blowing steam.
Water for eyes; is this really all just a bad dream?
I scream into the air, but there is nobody there
And I am without a deep breath to be heard down there.


No avalanche is coming to pass;
Still no way down and no turning back.
Water for air; water for eyes.
My kingdom for a burger, a milk shake and some fries.
Cannot just roll down to the bottom of this hill.
All things have been killed by the endless wind chill.


Minus degrees plus high wind speeds,
Equals the end of me; oh, sweet sanctuary.
Continuously, I seek to see the escalator,
To the bottom of this mountain peak.


Inside my tent the world disappears.
Who knows what tomorrow will bring?
Will I still be here?


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.