He doesn’t
move. Neither do I. He because he knows the proximity of the edge,
me because I’m too scared to even twitch.
But somehow it feels right. I’m
within reach of his arms but I’m also one false move from a rocky death.
The song of the sea is
calling.
Come child.
He’s calling
too. A whisper in the wind.
The ocean’s in my ears.
Touch my gentle waters. Fall
into the foam.
Yes.
The sea
grass pushes closer. Gulls call out
encouragement.
He’s my only
opponent, holding out his hand. Pleading.
No. I’m ready.
I’m ready to fall.
good stuff.
ReplyDeleteNice stylism.
ReplyDeleteGreat! Really love that line "he's my only opponent, holding out his hand. Pleading" - such an ironic picture.
ReplyDelete