Listen to poem:
On the Brink
Teetering I stand poised with bated breath,
Staring at the precipitous of death.
Ground beneath, slippery, shaky slimy.
I fear my state, fate and fear will collide.
A gust of doubt, a whispered wisp of fear,
Blown on ledge, all it takes to topple here.
Each moment hanging on the edge of chance,
Cast into a risky hazardous dance.
But I resolve to not relent just yet.
Though all my strength and poise is almost spent.
Each shake, teeter, totter, slip that's beaten,
Gives me hope that this can be defeated.
Just when I feel safe, sound akin again,
A sound blast shakes me off, all hopes in vain.
I slip, fall, scream, with arms flailing wildly
Tumble down, it seems for eternity.
I startle, awakened by my own scream.
Ah, that was such a vivid lucid dream!
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