On days the mountains are close,
others they cannot be seen at all,
I swear they ride the rails,
at our imaginations beck and call.

The snow-capped peak winks,
in the spectacular rising sun,
reflecting thoughts and dreams,
and future hopes of skiing fun.

Today my mood is dreary,
on the verge of being bleak,
the mountains are all hidden,
for even they are feeling meek.