Drumming Fingers - Poem by Sophia White
Drumming fingers in ripe agitation,
I gaze with fevered eyes at the abyss.
I balance above it precariously,
Still pretending nothing’s amiss.
But – behind me, the ground is cracking
And above me the sun dying –
Oh! My shoelaces need to be tied.
Fancy that. They’ll take hours of tying.
Distractions will not last for very long,
And sand runs around my feet, over the brink –
Disappearing into the blackish Below.
The sound of it makes it so hard to think!
The boiling point is close,
I feel its breath on my neck
Like the stroke of a ghost
(My hair’s such a wreck!)
No time for combs!
The echoing dome
Of the sky is cracked
I can’t hold back
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