The walkway through the high pines <br />wire meshed on either side <br />damp with fine constant rain <br />swings its way across a raging <br />gorge below. <br /> <br />Will you follow me over <br />sure footed in familiar <br /> walking boots and blue kagoule <br />catching me when I stumble, <br />slip or fall. <br /> <br />Or shall I walk behind you, <br />as you step in steady time <br />blind to anything but you; <br />one hand clutching a close fold <br />like a child. <br /> <br />Always afraid of heights <br />but a lover of high places <br />I have climbed many mountains <br />with you my enduring scaffold <br />uplifting the way.<br /><br />Diana Rosser<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-walkway-2/
