Like the scratches on my boots

Deep breath, we’re climbing.

Muted green, deep grey, drowning pink, bracken green, greylight, heather, footfall, heartbeat, continuity, condensation, precious moments, step by step, up, up, to a sense of space, of freedom, something open, like a mountainside, like scree, like rocks, like their first Munroe, like meaning, like landscape, like a space, to breathe deep, chill air, morning mist, golden burn, like walking, like life, boots with scratches.

Like energy, like sleeping heavy, like waking early, like sun burning cloud away, like thistles and thorns and bracken, like childhood, like fraternity, like learning, like a sea of stones, like loving, like it’s forever, like eternity, like everything, like we don’t matter, like it’s only us.

Like sand dunes running like water, like reeds binding dunes together, like smiles, like summer, burning gold, like beach dreams, like heart beats, like the last time, like grey on grey on grey, like shades of shades, out of time, like family.

Like perfection, like sliding and scrambling, like barefoot splashing, like always, like bluer than blue, like we’ve gone clear.

Like the song, beyond the horizon, like the curve of the earth, turning, revolving, like we are the centre, like everything, curvature, completion, like letting go, like trying to win the race in the sand, like wanting to lose the race in the sand, like testing the boundaries, like the mist clearing for a moment.

Burning gold, illuminating every beautiful line, every fold, every wonderful flaw in our skin, each step, each mistake, each kiss, each embrace, like life, like the scratches on my boots.