I may not be able to climb a mountain,

if I could I would have given Chomolungma

my best shot, frost bitten toes and missing

nose perhaps worth the price

of seeing the world in peace,

I wouldn’t have minded sailing the Atlantic,

lonely solitude a gift that keeps giving,

the endless days and sleepless nights, no

different to what my life entails now,

just the dark of the Ocean

calling out, each wave hitting

the side of the boat like an S.O.S. message,

join us, join us and swim under the pressure;

harmony before slowly going off to sleep.

Driving in a formula one race,

no, that is beyond my understanding,

I watched one once, it was all too much on the eyes,

and I already go round in circles

round and round, getting nowhere it seems.

I wouldn’t have minded scoring the winning goal

in a cup final or in the last minute

to win the League whilst wearing the crest

of the only team to ever break my heart,

but somehow seeing Yaya Toure

and Sergio Aguero manage the task

of superstardom and making fans cry

with a song in the heart, I would rather

have seen it than achieve it.

Best I stay in the dark, the gentle tap

of fingers not relegated to stumps

or missing through the blackness

of an Everest climb, my solace and pleasure

as they hit the keyboard,

illuminated only by brief light.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016