The Hike

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We’ve succumbed the elevation of the trail,

And kept trodding on the path when feeling frail.

You led me on the slippery bed of rocks

Which lay on the river, where the bears would flock.

With beating chests and disheartening qualms,

We meditatively reunited our sweaty palms.

Our gazes were blinded by the ethereal

Waterfall; its energy discerned pictorial.

Even the trees seemed to be dancing,

And the lush greenery welcomed us prancing.

But with the trip of the stone, I tended

To my limp. As the journey’s end suspended,

You snarled and spat, “I can’t do this anymore,

Your worth is decreased to the nearest carnivore.”

Natasha Byrne 2019