Even now,
as you hang
over the edge
of a cliff,
one hand dangling
empty
above the sheer
chasm,
the other
holding
a thin
brittle
branch,
isn’t it
oddly
wonderful
the only
thought
that hasn’t
fled in fear
is that
this, too,
would be
a great time
for kissing.
Nice, and a cliffhanger too. That grin at the end of the poem, so refreshing. And that long, narrow shape of the poem is a metaphor too!