On a rail, down a
Trail, to a temple tall.
I see the sky,
I feel the air;
I know I'm about to fall.
A glimpse, a gasp;
I hold my breath.
I sensed, I knew,
I was meant for death.
I look-
It's you,
by which I was caught.
Turns out you were a better catcher than I thought.
YOU ARE READING
Dreaming Fiction
PoezjaHere lies a growing collection of poems written for reality, from fiction.
