Poetry #3: New River Gorge had a Kid
New River Gorge had a Kid
Like soldiers of winter’s old,
We climbed the bluff,
Under the authority of none
but our own.
Far behind us
(past the creek one of us fell in,
Ice cracking and eyes
laughing)
lies the log cabin
in which we
dreamt.
Even farther
lies the homes
where we dream.
What lies
on top of that sharp hill?
I don’t think we
knew.
I am glad we never
truly reached the top -
I fear
for what we might have
found.
Probably
nothing,
Except for the snow
and whistling air.
Or worse,
Another five
years,
Bundled up and waiting
to strike us
(like that snowball,
Good shot)
and claim another four
children.
Photos were taken at the New River Gorge Bridge in West Virginia, with a Sony Alpha5000. VSCO was used for the editing.
A very complex write here, Horzy. You have told three separate narrative and they have entwined together rather well. I get war, the pursuit of an illusionary finish line, and a good natured hike, ending in a snowball fight. Bravo:)
Many thanks! My intent was to capture the last days of childhood; to capture that liminal period in between having innocent childhood friends and having friends you make profane comments with online. Not a sad story for everyone, perhaps, but it marked an end of a golden age for me, so to speak.
I get you ... there is a lot of courage and strength found in innocence:)