By
James Robert Smith
I feel that the day
may arrive when
I will see distant peaks and
not wish to climb them.
I may one day see a
pretty girl and
just see a
person.
A day could arrive
when the wind blows
through trees, rushing through
leaves and the forest will not
call my name.
A sun could rise over
sparkling waters and I
will not wish to
plunge in.
A morning may dawn
and I will awaken
and my legs will ache
too much to take me
down paths
through woods
in valleys
on trails
atop ridges
that overlook
the world.
I hope that morning,
that sun,
that day
if it comes
will be far and far and far
away.
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