Pale Blue

These days are placid, quiet things
As my pale waters flow wandering
Through all my tributaries
To the sea - its terms are tastefully
In my face, asking the impossible -
That I complete the race I started
Not give up half way, and I will -
For I demand the impossible of
Myself, my  skill, tenacity - I
Have clung to far crags high
And old, I have learned that
Footholds can be found  if the
Search is true - my days are
Quiet, placid things, pale blue.

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