Winded and wounded
He lay down to rest,
He hadn’t quite finished
But he had done his best.
Tomorrow, a new day
Would be a new chance
To compete and complete
This unparalleled dance.
He retired for the day
With a heart full of hope;
Head held high,
Feeling strong,
He had hold of the rope.
And he’d climb up that rope
When the sun rose up high
He would clamber,
His fingers outstretched
To the sky.

This entry was posted in depression, Mental Health, Recovery and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Climbing

  1. A lovely poem, inspiring and uplifting.


  2. jfb57 says:

    I know how it feels to go to bed with that hope. Why is it that the night hours bring about a change?


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