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The Edge
April 26, 2011
I was once a flower on the Edge.
The edge of a cliff, maybe.
(I’m not entirely sure).
The Wind would push me.
But all I could really feel
Was the nothingness
That I knew was below.
It could not be seen.
The Edge.
That crept and lingered
Beneath me.
Waiting.
Anticipating.
On hot days I would wilt.
And feel myself
Becoming enticed
By gravity
To droop.
But the voice
Of the cool Wind
Would bring me back.
Though still feeling
The nothingness
But now aware
Of the Dangers
That await
My fall.
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