What She Did While High Poem by Glenn Bagshaw

A Tale Of Fallin' Virtue

At noon she topped the thin crest of the hill
and on a spine of rock was trapped at last
by foes below who spoke of time to kill,
some easy times for pleasure won't kill fast.
So here she'd cease, a horrid place to die,
in burst of slabs and rock-work pitched on slopes.
High, angel end at almost end of sky
where suns that rise might crash on free-fall hope.
But mob's voiced threats bounced stones, a kicking ride;
their gravity then- dread of sudden fall.
The gang stayed still-feared tripping tidal slides-
and she, far up she soared! - all top-star tall.
Stone silence for a moment, then her yell-
then roll, that roar, that rocking sea of Hell.