Staircase at Fifteen
Ascending, her centrifugal
influence captures me
and I follow,
breathless,
witless, wordless,
despite all longing
and shared
discretions, in spite
of the thundering
pulse
and the incessant
demand to act
or run.
She pauses, looks
down, sees
nothing.
Suddenly freed,
spinning off
and slowing down,
shrinking,
far below, on equal
footing but so
apart,
never to meet
in truth, unable
to define direction or
motive, I remain
fixed as she moves
higher, far away, close
but up,
always up.
O at the Edges 
so beautiful ❤
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Thank you, Shiela!
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One of my favourites of yours, Bob! And I wish at 15 I’d been privy to such a poem, been able to see inside a guy’s head.
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Nothing much in there – confusion, insecurity, desire, more confusion… 🙂
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Hah! You’ve sure got a lot more going on than that😎but I have to say I’m also familiar with that desire/confusion complex🙄
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At fifteen, the hormones were in charge!
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Fabulous!!
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Thank you, Hélène!
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Beautiful Bob. This is tying me up in a knot, thinking about the possibilities and confusion.
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There were so many of both back then.
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Our confused path is lighted by the glow of possibilities
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I like this, with its uplifting (pardon the pun) optimism and wistful aspiration at the same time.
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I kept climbing those stairs…
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I can see that! Heh-heh!
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Perspective, right? Taking the stairs two at a time or watching the one who’s doing it.
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Both! With multiple stumbles along the way.
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Brilliant! Shows our inadequacies trying to match up to the unattainable!
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And there were so many inadequacies back them…
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