Living on the edge

Beneath my feet

A great lake stretches away

Pristine glass

To grassy slopes, rising, slowly rising

Hills of green and gold

And further still the blue and grey

Of distant mountains

The soft lap of water at my doorstep

The slow creak of a boat moored nearby

Wind whispers over the pool

Tiptoes through the grass

Shivers in the tree tops

And whirls away to dance around the peaks

I look down to see

Ripples of me

And behind my head

The undulating sky

If I fall

Will I fly?

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s