of close
calls.
the knife that misses
your foot
when it falls
to the floor,
the swerve of the car
at the red
light.
the tree falling seconds
before you
stroll by.
taking a different
flight,
not the one that goes down.
putting out the fire
before
it starts,
before
the curtains ignite.
and me saying, no,
not now,
let's wait. it just
doesn't feel
right.
No comments:
Post a Comment