The cauldron
bubbles below
Hungry
for my old body
with
painful wavering legs
Balancing
on the tightrope
Stretched
across the bottomless
Brief
respite lies ahead
On the
too narrow ledge
Of
my lingering life
Before
I must return
To the
daily journey
In
my youth the path
Was
broad and inviting
Leading
to spacious
Grassy
rolling hills
With
beautiful views
A suggestion try my novel, BEN
CONNOLLY in the PARIS COMMUNE, on
Kindle
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