Purpose: a poem

Madi Reinschmidt

The tree trunk creaked,

It’s branches laden with snow;

And every time a small bird cheeped,

Her presence there was known.


Even though the sky was bleak,

Fear could not overcome;

For she had seen the nearing peak,

To fear she would not succumb.


There was fire in those eyes of hers,

And glory in her steps;

The creature in her heart had stirred,

And left a great affect.


Her cheeks grew rosy and her breaths grew quick,

She trudged on through the deep;

The snow and ice had grown so thick,

And the mountain seemed so steep.


But, she held a promise in her heart,

One that she vowed to keep;

She knew about a grand new start,

Atop that mountain peak.


She tripped and she scrambled,

Upon the icy slope;

The biting wind seemed to strangle,

All that she could do was hope.


With her chin held high and her fists clenched,

She persevered against the wind;

The grey clouds were vast across the sky,

But the sun peaked out of dim.


Her legs were weak and her hands frost,

But she smiled as she reached the top;

The problems of her world were lost,

Everything had seemed to stop.


As she looked around,

And the sun set behind her town;

She was aware of what had been found,

The purpose of life that she deemed sound.