The Verge Of My Barely Letting Go Poem by Steven Webster

Early morning
Cup of coffee
Peeling back the rind
I see faces
Swirling traces
Stirring in my mind

And I don't know why
I have to make amends
For the lesser part
Of what I can't defend

Blame it on the night
Blame it on the reason
It's calling
Blame it on the night
Walking the tightrope
Up above the splendid show
I'm on the verge of my
Barely letting go

Heartbeat faster
Senses reeling
Everything in spin
I've lost touch now
With all feeling
So I breathe it in

Angels waiting
At the railing
Deliver you unharmed
On these stepping stones
To heaven
Where you land disarmed

And I don't know why
I have to make amends
For the lesser part
Of what I can't defend

Blame it on the night
Blame it on the reason
It's calling
Blame it on the night
How willingly wanton
My suspended disbelief
From silver skyscrapers
With no net strung underneath

Blame it on the night
Blame it on the reason
It's calling
Blame it on the night
Walking the tightrope
Up above the splendid show
I'm on the verge of my
Barely letting go