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Poetry By
  Alric Bolt

Published on: 3/21/2006

Once I saw a man who clung
One-handed to the ladder rung.
Gripping tightly while he swung
He watched the world from where he hung.

All day he dangled in the air
With no concern or seeming care.
On upturned faces he would stare
As they passed him hanging there.

No tear made trails upon his cheek,
He didn't moan or even speak.
The wind was cold, the day was bleak
Yet he ne'er wearied, nor grew weak.

Then as the day fled from the sky
He took the world into his eye.
I heard him breathe a quiet sigh
Let loose his hand and try to fly.

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