The Jumper
On a twelve inch ledge
On the twenty-seventh floor
He tried to sort out his life.
From his high school days
Through his college days
To the woman he called his wife.
His dreams had been many
But his prospects were few,
Life was at best second rate,
His dreams died away
As his prospects grew worse,
He resigned himself to his fate.
A crowd gathered round
To stare up at the man,
They held their collective breath,
He spread out his arms
Reached up for the sky
Then plummeted down to his death.
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