why is it that sometimes we

fall

and sometimes we fly.

we hit the cold earth or the stars in the sky.

the wind blows through our hair

or it knocks us flat.

we sink into our soft beds then we slide through the slats.

i often stop and wonder that and

if the middle ground were not locked and off limits

i would try and enter and dwell within it.

 

flowers grow then flowers die

babies sleep then babies cry

he makes me feel free then he makes me feel shy

one minute she’s low two minutes she’s high

i often stop and wonder why.