While I was distracted
The grey hairs appeared
First in the temples
And then in the beard
Meanwhile on the Cuillin ridge
In flats with empty beds inside
A slim fin of rock waited and waited to be sat astride
The so-called “peak of the young men”
Who got stuck at the planning stage
Hoping they would somehow gain attractiveness with age
Still with none of the instruments studied
Something wells up and up
The window was open
You wanted to jump
Several times, but something else always came up