I tripped, I fell, I went right down,
rolled so far nobody heard my sound.
It wasn't until I had stopped,
upward lifted my head and propped,
did I see the distance from which I came.
No longer young the distance it's not the same.
The fate I chose to choose to choose,
forge back up to see the distant views.
Climb that slope to see those sights,
and distant view those starry nights.
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Author:
Maplespal (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 18th, 2025 08:19
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments1
Definitely metaphoric this poem presents the change with age and the different view point now. A lovely write
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