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.