The Climbing Tree

Mark and I sat in the tree house
It was an end of a time
But which time I’m not too sure
I only know how I felt
And he said
“You will never succeed”

And now I remember which time it was
The end of school days where we had become good friends
And now I was leaving
With an ambition to sign-on
It seemed like a good idea at the time
And I don’t think I fully understood
The implications of that low horizon

I had low-grade mentors
And I had chosen them
Those that had condemned me for being different
Were placated by my decision
To stoop to them

And now it is
It is this
Now
That I’m forty-one
And signing on again
Stuttering
Stalling
Reaching up
And trying to get away

Have I only ever sought to meet your expectations?
Staring up at your words
When I should be scaling them