Feet on the edge of a cliff,
hanging, hanging,
just one more push Mr. Wind.
Yet sweaty hands
cling, cling,
to unseen twigs,
not willing,
not willing,
to dive, deep, deep,
into the pit of love.
I have always been
brave, blunt, honest,
but I cannot leap,
else I’ll be a mess.
Yes,
I am scared, afraid
to fall… for I know you will
not catch me.
r. c. gonzales – roy | page 13 of Poems for S
—
Sharing with you some excerpts of my upcoming book, Poems for S!
Pre-order available here: https://amzn.to/2CSrGAU .
A Reading Writer 