Standing on the ledge
I can see below, jagged reminders of happiness
Treetop dreams of echoes traveled
Toes tipping the cliff face, pebbles fall
bouncing to their own beat,
unlike that of my heart,
staggered and frail

Peering down on those lives,
white picket fences in quilt top designs
like tiny ants, moving about,
frolicking between corn row wisdom and apple blossom beauty
Never once looking up to see
this man who knows he can not fly
reaching for the depths calling his name

A strong gust of wind whistles
beneath dark clouds mingling with my stare
Still moments have escaped,
replaced by the emptiness that is my mind
holding only one thought, one view
footsteps, a straight line, uncounted
in a fashion of leaving…far below

Golden horizons beckon
of a last setting sun, one final time
Flowing rays of watercolor brushstrokes
That I…we once enjoyed,
hand in hand, singing songs of a forever love
that fell like autumn leaves in silent
multicolored tears, puddles of drained melodies

I cling to my hopes…
like a crooked root protruding,
grasped tightly for fear of falling
Yet all along know I must…let go, release my dreams
I find so hard to forget…your kiss, your smile,
your laugh filling my soul with joy…but I can’t
if even there is the slightest chance…but there is not

Standing on the ledge…someone push me, please