The fall

Clock ticks, counting every second as I'm floating on the horizon.
The motion so slow I could feel the heat of the sun embrace me,
and hours apart I'm being cradled by the cold twilight's tranquility.

As I fall I may come crashing to the sea, impact hard but my life I could keep.
I might hit the ground hard, lie customarily to my grave.
Whichever I end up, I could only hope for myself to be brave.

My body light as a feather floating in the air.
I know providence is never that fair.
If only I was a feather rather than being a stone,
sure of breaking apart to pieces, alone.




Written by: Dominique M. Arancon