The Falling Poem by Vera Sidhwa

The Falling


I sped across a high, sharp cliff.
I went smooth across it's rocks.
The sight was lovely,
The air was clear.

I almost slipped on one of my shoes.
But I gained back my balance.
At last, I balanced on one foot.
But the sight was lovely,
The air was clear,
And I didn't fall.

Alas, I arrived at my destination.
I ran faster now to reach it.
I never did fall,
As I stood over that sharp edged cliff.