I wonder if the pull of hubris
hurt like strings before your plunge?
or if it was like sky, with blueness,
sea and heaven, lack of lunch
Did you sense the singe of sun?
before you felt how your flight
turned into fright, you couldn’t run
just flap your arms, gone was sleight
of flying; when fighting against dying
can a hero be forgiven crying?
For Karin’s prompt at toads.
June 30, 2017