Oh, you are a slippery one,
this hold I want to have on forward
momentum, this drive to stomp sure-footed,
(seams well-stitched and holding steady)
onto that gorgeous terrain in front of me,
breathtaking, uncertain
but like all beautiful things -
it remains just beyond outstretched,
grasping fingertips; ahead of feet
trembling, tentative
and here I stand,
midstride,
(stubbornly frayed at the edges),
struggling, yet determined,
to put one foot in front of the other
No comments:
Post a Comment