falling in is easy
— ask Alice.
a slight step over the edge and
or floating…
or flying
carried by a breeze
that smells of hope and honeysuckle

falling out is…not the same.
one small, aching step
and another
and one more
before a pause to catch my breath
of air from which the honeysuckle
is gone.

one clawing grasp
and another
dirt and despair caked beneath my fingernails
muscles that throb to the beat
of my foolish heart.

when I reach solid ground,
I swear I’ll step more carefully
and stay away from any edges…
especially the ones at which the scent
of hope and honeysuckle