The Autumn Of Metaphors Poem by William Pryor

The ladder leans on our wall
we clamber rather than fall
as snakes to the pit
we flit
from dark to lighter
shadow fighters
springing from rung to sprung
until the autumn of our metaphors

The ladder needs our wall
or it could not point vaguely
skywards
its resistance to crawl
makes the arms stronger
to ward off longer
melancholy

To walk under the metaphor
invites what for
absolute beginners
could be the hell
of the physical

Better climb the eternal
stairway to leaven
our daily bread