The Morning

It's his fault
that he hangs
by the collar of his thin
shirt, forty stories
above the street.
He can't help

feeling the discomfort
from fear
that makes his
temporary heart
flutter. There is a
name for it.

Poor Jaquobin.
Due diligance
is what he needs,
all within
practical limits
and know what they are.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2014

Poem

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Sietesantos Avatar
July 19, 2014 at 10:54 AM
Hi Don, thank you for sharing this excellent write. I love it! Bravo!
Schaeffer Avatar
July 19, 2014 at 11:50 AM
Thanks Pandita
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