SLOWLY ON A DIME

SLOWLY ON A DIME

Perched upon the building tall, bowed by age and felled by time,
The weary jumper, sad and small, prepares to cross that sacred line.
The line of mystery that divides the living and the dead.
He blows a kiss to the abyss, in desperation hangs his head.

He longs for days when love was new, a springing panther from the vine,
But now the ground is brown and bare and life turns slowly on a dime.

A weakened heart beats nonetheless its sad tales and resentments.

The fairy tale in all its glory, was it just another foolish story?
The torchlight and the dreaming, a partner’s kind embrace.
Smiles that danced in a lover’s eye and moments filled with grace.

Perched upon the precipice and tethered to the past.
The vows of love bloomed early and then they faded fast.
Left behind are remnants, bread crumbs on life’s trail.
The love notes and the flowers, they withered and grew stale.

He longs for days when skies were blue, and health and vigor flowed like wine,
But now the rain clouds hide the view, and life turns slowly on a dime.

Perched upon the building grand, freezing in his overcoat.
He stumbles on the shifting sands, struggling just to stay afloat.
He treads the line that dangles fine between the living and the dead
And hurls a kiss to the abyss as storm clouds gather up ahead.

He longs for days when love was new, like precious grapes from off the vine,
And all his dreams stain black and blue, as life turns slowly on a dime.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED