My Horizon

We go our ways, don’t we? Cut the chord, turn out

the light, change direction, lock the door. Sometimes the heart

skips a beat and before you know it your feet are clinging

to a tightrope and your hands are grabbing air. I saw you

down below, laughing. Your eyes sparkled as they always did, merry

meet and never part because you just are. There. No need

for shouts or whistles, your encouragement carried on a laugh

a hand to hide the smile that couldn’t be shuttled away.

I’ll thank you now because I’m a dolt who didn’t possess

enough sense to thank you before. You funny little court jester

not afraid to speak your truth or twinkle at twilight.

When I was up on that wire you were my horizon and I would fly

to the edge of any cloud to greet you again.

© Tina Zabielski 2011-2019


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