High above the ground, something's clipped my wings,
I'm there on tiptoe balancing on a tightrope string
I'm not flying, but I'm not falling either
I know where to go, but I have to take the long way there
So I tiptoe, tiptoe, ever so carefully
But the ground below begins to taunt me
Tempting, I'm tempted
To take the shortcut, no matter how demented
But the consequences of the easy way out
May make it worth the harder route
Even though I'm not sure where I'm heading,
Upon this balancing act I am depending
So I'll just tiptoe, tiptoe, in my own time
At least until I make it to the end of the line
YOU ARE READING
Sing and Dance
PoetrySing and Dance all your troubles away, and maybe they'll come back another day #98 in Poetry (9/6/16) #48 in Poetry (9/7/16)
