There is a rope inside my mind.
It has been there my entire life.
I would tug it from time to time.
But it was always difficult to climb.
A braided rope, like you would see
In a gym class, high school P.E.
If you can climb to the top, you’d be
Among the school jock celebrities.
But in my mind, my rope is more,
For at the top is an old wood door,
And I know beyond lie secrets and lore.
The kind of find that pirates adore.
A treasure chest of ancient myths,
Long forgotten spells and glyphs,
Everything that could exist,
If I can climb my rope to it.
© Christopher Allen Breidinger
Excerpt from Poet Christopher’s Scenes, Dreams, And Golden Schemes
Photo Credit: © JGI/Blend Images/Corbis