At the rocks

5 sense poem

 At the rocks

I see…
The rough, ruthless rock face, shimmering in the sunlight.
My clip draws and harness lying on the edge of the fresh, bright green grass.
The beautiful, luscious green trees and plants surrounding me, as I run, excitedly like a cheetah catching its prey.
At the rocks.

 I feel…
The rough rock with my ghost like powdered hands.
The wind cut through me like a knife through cheese.
My fingers in agony, as I desperately try to hold on as l reach to the next hold.
At the rocks. 

I hear…
My partner encouraging me, as I frantically leap up and cling on to the next hold.
The distant sound of a speeding scooters slide along the Summit Road.
The ‘click’ as I clip the clip draw onto the bolt.
At the rocks.

I want…
To practise so I can do harder, more challenging courageous climbs.
To have a rest, so I can do another climb To reach the final hold.
At the rocks.

I wonder…
If I can climb a 22.
If I'll have enough energy to belay my amazing partner.
If I can climb to my goals.
At the rocks.

By Eliza