The Climb by Phyllis Trussler

The small boy heard the mountain speak 

There are secrets on my highest peak 

But beware, my boy, the passing of time 

Wait not too long to start the climb. 

So quickly come and go the years 

And young man stands below with fears 

Come on, come on, the mountain cussed 

Time presses on: Oh climb you must. 

Now he is busied in middle age prime 

And maybe tomorrow he’ll take the climb 

Now is too soon: It’s raining today 

Gone, all gone, years are eaten away. 

An old man looks up, still feeling the lure 

Yet he’ll suffer the pain, not climb for the cure 

The hair is white, the step is slow 

And it’s safer and warmer to stay here below. 

So all too soon the secrets are buried 

Along with him and regrets he carried 

And it’s not for loss of secrets he’d cried 

But rather because he’d never tried.