Fear of Climbing

If I could stand on the top of a tall tree

And thrust my hand out into the air,

Poking life in the eye out of spite,

Then step off and drop like the figurative stone,

Would I dance on the way down,

Bend and twist and somersault,

Or just plummet and wait to come face to face with the ground?

This entry was posted in Poetry by bgm1969. Bookmark the permalink.

About bgm1969

This blog is updated by a guy who’s overweight, silly, Liberal, spiritual rather than religious, infatuated with beauty and grace, musically blessed, and always changing.

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