She climbs the mountains without shoes
and as she sees the summit
she sings a theme, afraid to lose
her way. She hears me hum it,
the theme once on the summit heard
by others she would follow,
barefoot, and eager for the word
she finds so hard to swallow,
and then begins to hum, like me,
although her feet are callused,
and soars, because her mind is free,
her legs bereft of ballast.
Hers is the soul the theme now calls,
her feet run as she sings;
she rises as my body falls,
ascending without wings.
11/30/97
I really liked this, it evoked a dreamlike sense of floating. And top mark for rhyming hum it with summit! Hugs Ann xxx
Perfect sincronicity Gershon. Very romantic with a touch of sweet erotica. Very nice work indeed. 10 from smiling at you, Tai
Dreamy and magical, Gershy. I love it. Have a 10. With warmth, Gina.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your poems always make us ascend without wings. A thrilling flight.