Coffee For Poetry

It is only me and the mountain now.
We stand, fixed, unmovable,
facing down our fears
and the fury of how you chased us
through all the years.

I move only to refill my coffee cup
and listen for a distant melody
rising from another hill.
Or is it my heart
in that other time?

There is the chasm still,
and neither of us can fill it for you.
Or build the bridge by ourselves.
We love you, you know,
this mountain and me.
All is forgiven now.

One day there will be a way
and I will fly straightaway
through this deeply valley.
Without hesitation, I will rise to meet you
and sing again on our mountain
and trade my coffee for poetry.