Wednesday, June 3, 2015
Ribbon High in the Branches
White ribbon high in the branches above,
A balloon held too loosely in the spring breeze?
No evidence to say so,
But normal silk doesn't often fly to such heights.
What luck, to have been caught at the apex of its path,
We should all be so fortunate.
Before me, the gladiator, the eagle, the mounted warrior victorious,
all too captured at their peak.
But do they know?
Is it not just as well to know you've attained it,
and always have the memory,
as imperfect or even embellished?