Mountains

Making my way to the mountains,
Like a water fountain, it’s crystal clear,
Their sage and wise,
It felt like century’s were racing by,
And I was stuck up high,
There was snow on top,
And it made me flop,
I felt like I was goanna drop.

I was struck by the elegance of the clouds and the pure sky,
And the majestic birds orbiting the mountain,
It smelt dry, and the high altitude made it very difficult for me to breathe,
The aroma of the roasted chicken was being spoiled by the coal from the bonfire,
It was lonely and tranquil, but it taught me to become self-sufficient.