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Swaddled in mist

I climb the steps,

Hand on hard rail

For the treads are uneven,

Some steep, some shallow,

Worn almost flat in parts,

Much trodden,

Elsewhere rough and stony;

My feet falter,

Feeling their way,

I lose my grip,

Fall to my knees,

Gasping,

Then feel my way

forward

On all fours

Like a child

Until the mist wisps away,

The steps even out and

The path lies straight ahead.