An Old Man An His Mountain Poem by sylvia spencer

I wish I could climb the mountain once more
to do everything that I did before. Breath the air
that is sweet to taste, climb a mountain and not
make haste.Once more to the summit just to touch
the stars; away from the world and it's fast cars.
Making tracks up the path, smelling the alpine flower
gaze upon the summit, oh' what conquering power.
To look once again at the world below where everything
looks small and you can hear the echo call.
I never bothered about the chill in the air.
I had no worries because my feelings were there.
I still dress up in mountaineering clothes, put on my
boots, check the tackle and paint a bright red nose
I look at photographs or the worlds greatest mountain;
'yes, I was once there in that snowy fountain, where
hardened glaciers had formed over the years where we
were afraid to tread, it was our greatest fears.
White covered masses upon a ridge left from a
snowstorm then frozen like a fridge.
I am an old man with a replacement knee but in my
mind that mountain belongs to me. If once again I
could hear that ice crack; it's then I know my destiny
has called me back.