I was looking in my sock drawer and found this rolled up in a corner.
Two years ago in budding spring we hiked
the mountains, as sun-softened snow dashed o’er
a tow’ring cliff o’erhead. The mist, like ice,
sprayed faces red. I’d never loved you more.
High ridges bid us come as summer rolled.
We, happy guests, accepted the allure.
Our highest, hardest trek--the summit cold
and beautiful. I’d never loved you more.
One early morn, in autumn, in the rain
a muddy mound we climbed, our vows to store
from that day on in memory unstained.
You kissed your bride. I’d never loved you more.
We’ve ranges yet to tramp, heights to explore,
And with each peak, I’ll ever love you more.