July 10, 2011

• 16

  Footholds used to be my forte.
  I had a grip,
  scaled the heights,
  held refuge in my grasp.
  Moss likes footholds too
  and always comes in time.
  Soft, short,
  and slippery.
  When there is surface for moss to mount,
  a climbing girl in search
  will always lose to time.
  Love is life,
  but gravity is law.
  Fate told growth to kindly wait
  so that I may watch my footholds disappear
  only after reaching the top.

  • 8:42 pm
  • 1 Comment