Excuse me, while I funambulate,
It gives me time to speculate,
Of what is up and down, and all about,
Of what’s within, of what’s without
To walk a rope, you place your fe
In a certain way, that’s quite discrete,
A toe on a line, that’s slack, or taut,
And step into a world that’s fraught,
And filled with a sense of imminent danger,
In which certainly is a certain stranger.
To tightrope-walk, you must be brave,
Or else you’ll meet an early grave.
© Caro Ness 2017m
© Image inspired by Maricris CabreraO
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