Chase Blaser

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Best Poem of Chase Blaser

The Climbings

The Waltz my father led,
I trailed with glee,
I looked up ahead,
a Mountain's peak, free of trees.

The frosty air and cool breeze;

the pure lakes of melted snow,
clarity of mind,
clean in soul.

A new waltz learned, one well-earned...

and so it felt great, but down we go
to the next devil,
that calls us below.

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