• Tricia D. Wagner

Set the Night Singing #2.11

I dance upon the knife's edge

every second of the day.

A little twist, an over-lean

and I'll have lost my way.

I shall not fall, not me, I think,

my feet, though tending sore.

But fickle balance -

one false step -

and I shall be no more.

So crushing, must it really be

to dance the dance and carry on?

By burdens harsh, by scares, we learn

to hope, not plan, for dawn.


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