The Tallest Mountain Top

Covered in snow, a giant's sleep, A mountain range, both grand and steep. Green valleys yawned, a misty sight, Toward peaks that kissed the morning light.

Old Mountain stood, a stony friend, While fluffy Clouds began to send, Soft blankets down of misty gray, To greet a Climber on their way!

The Climber small, with boots so stout, Began to climb, without a doubt. Up, up they went, a steady pace, Through rocky paths, a winding race.

The Mountain grumbled, "Ticklish feet!" As little steps he'd often meet. The Clouds just giggled, soft and low, And sprinkled snow where they did go.

Past frozen streams and icy slides, Where eagles soared on windy tides. The Climber huffed, with rosy cheeks, And scrambled up, with tiny squeaks.

Higher and higher, towards the sun, The toughest part had just begun! But onward still, they bravely pressed, With beating heart inside their chest.

At last, a gasp! A joyful cry! The very top, so close and nigh! The Climber stood, on snowy ground, The tallest mountain could be found!

They waved to Clouds, so fluffy white, A tiny figure, bathed in light. Old Mountain smiled, a rocky grin, "You reached the top! You bravely win!"