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February 8, 2018

Somersault

You asked me why I don't write anymore:
I lost the spare key to heaven's door.
It's been barricaded, locked, for years;
nope, can't open it, not even with tears.

I know where it is but I just can't get it.
It's buried deep down a grit-filled pit,
once crowded with innocence and hope,
mocked for its resemblance to a tightrope,
except there is a pole with which to balance,
but where's the fun in that, where's the challenge?

I lost it when I was told to go swimming with the sharks.
"But I'm a little guppy", I said. "No, or you'll lose marks!",
as if life was this big tournament, only I was not aware.
You have to blow the whistle to scare away the bear.

But then I somersault back into existence,
unfamiliar with the path of least resistance.
I look at you and suddenly everything's alright.
I can go to sleep now. Good night.