It’s a slow tumble down,
not exactly a fall.
It’s quick rise to the top,
where you might just get to dangle for a moment.
And then you don’t.
But sometimes its a graceful act,
of dropping just a couple feet,
& slowly floating down,
From the outside it may look so lovely.
And other times its a fast brisk wind,
that snaps the thread so abruptly,
that you drop before you even caught a glimpse from the top.
And from the bottom you desperately hope someone will help you to your feet.
But they’ve watched you rise before
so they just let you be.
“At least you are young!” they cheer as you dust off the dirt.