A man walks upon a line,
A woman walks upon a line
Crimson in the half light of the moon.
He walks like a tightrope walker does,
She walks like a tightrope walker does
Each step,
Precise and accurate,
arms held out at 180 degrees.
He wobbles here and there and,
She wobbles here and there and,
Holds his breath,
Holds her breath
Each time,
But he is sure of his feet,
But she is sure of her feet
Because everytime he swings his left foot around
Because everytime she swings her left foot around
In a wide arc,
Although the toes of his left leave the heel of his right,
Although the toes of her left leave the heel of her right,
It reconciles, heel to toe,
Again.
And again.
And again.
Such is the way of life,
One man wobbling along the tightrope of existence.
One woman wobbling along the tightrope of existence.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 1:54 PM UTC
A man walks upon a line,
A woman walks upon a line
Crimson in the half light of the moon.
He walks like a tightrope walker does,
She walks like a tightrope walker does
Each step,
Precise and accurate,
arms held out at 180 degrees.
He wobbles here and there and,
She wobbles here and there and,
Holds his breath,
Holds her breath
Each time,
But he is sure of his feet,
But she is sure of her feet
Because everytime he swings his left foot around
Because everytime she swings her left foot around
In a wide arc,
Although the toes of his left leave the heel of his right,
Although the toes of her left leave the heel of her right,
It reconciles, heel to toe,
Again.
And again.
And again.
Such is the way of life,
One man wobbling along the tightrope of existence.
One woman wobbling along the tightrope of existence.
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