“Be careful not to fall,”
my mother used to wail,
stricken by my gall
to play between the rails.
My mother used to wail –
just the thought would terrify –
“My baby is too frail;
God, don’t let my baby die.”
Just the thought would terrify
and I would giggle at her angst,
captivated by the height,
but well aware that I should brace.
And I would giggle at her angst,
confident in revelry –
a characteristic I maintained
even in maturity.
Confident in revelry,
captivated by the height,
just the thought would terrify…
“Be careful not to fall.”
May 14, 2013
