Living On The Edge. Poem by Peter Dome
Living On The Edge.
Sometimes
I feel like I'm standing upon the edge of a cliff
swaying too and throw
in a icy cold biting breeze
staring down
at the dark caesium below
not knowing
one moment to the next
which way I'll go.
Hoping someone will come along
and reach out and grab my hand
and save me.
But until then
almost everyday
I stand here
and sway.
Peter Dome.copyright.2012.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/5/2024 4:13:33 PM # 1.0.0.1119
