Huffing up a ridge, steep,
Inch by inch, the footstep creep.
Scrambling toward what feels like near.
Getting close. Getting here.

Finally made it. Now it’s flat.
Catch the breath. Eat a snack.
Turn to see the scouted sight,
A familiar peak in all its might.

Pyramid slopes, left and right,
Joined at a point, clean and tight.
Across the valley, perched to see
The plan worked out. To a T.

Lift the camera. Zoom on in.
Give the focus ring a spin.
I’ve been right there on that spot.
The smile fades. The top… that’s NOT.

Summit-like, that much is sure.
But the plan? Not so pure.
Four hundred feet, up and behind,
Sits the real one on the spine.

Forgot about that tricky bluff
Where legs had already had enough.

Hope adds one last little hop.

Then comes the slap
of the false top.