Rock Climbing
My friend Jenny, afore mentioned in the poem Jenny author of I don't like wasps. I don't like flies either, insisted I write a rhyming poem. Enjoy.
I started to scale the cliff,
Without my usual harness,
Using only my hands and feet,
I climbed up and into darkness.
Scrabbling for a crack,
Or a foothold to stop and rest,
I dug my nails into the rock,
Heart hammering in my chest.
It was as if the rock gave way,
Dismayed I found twas true,
For as my feet began falling,
The rest of my body did too.
Grabbing for the safety line,
I knew instinctively wasn't there,
I plummeted at a sickening rate,
Through the rushing air.
My head hit the ground,
With a resounding crack,
I found that I was lying dazed,
On the gym floor on my back.
Without my usual harness,
Using only my hands and feet,
I climbed up and into darkness.
Scrabbling for a crack,
Or a foothold to stop and rest,
I dug my nails into the rock,
Heart hammering in my chest.
It was as if the rock gave way,
Dismayed I found twas true,
For as my feet began falling,
The rest of my body did too.
Grabbing for the safety line,
I knew instinctively wasn't there,
I plummeted at a sickening rate,
Through the rushing air.
My head hit the ground,
With a resounding crack,
I found that I was lying dazed,
On the gym floor on my back.
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