On Losing
Walking on the edge, walking, walking on the edge
It could have been now or never; now or forever.
On losing, or letting loose consequences
Often life's bitter sequences;
And then dawn would come.
Hope beckoned as alone
Hiding in an alcove dark and aloof
Rain splattering on the roof
Words fond their way to my soul:
Strummed, drummed and made me whole.
Copyright: Rani Turton
