The Himalayan tea trail


Among the high mountains is heaven's front door, where yak trains and traders still ply

where the air is as thin as a silken thread, you may look down at clouds going by




where the people you meet are so friendly but few, and the chill in the air is awake

but your muscles are aching, your breathing is hard, how many more steps can you take




you are six days walking from Kathmandu and the trail still rises and falls

the rises are steep and the level parts short, between the mountains walls




with deep ravines crossed by bridges of rope, and the sun burning down on your back

the mountains take everything, all that you had, on the hard Himalayan track




and now you have nothing, no strength and no will, but the tea trail gathers you up

when a tea house appears in the distance, and your mind turns to gold in a cup




so heaven was here after all, just to sit and drink tea in the sky,

as the sun passes over the mountains again, and the day slips silently by.

Fantastic poem, Fantastic photos.

Sweetie wrote:
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