Arches - I

Sometimes, when I'm walking home,
I feel like the wind tries to hold me back,
That the streetlights shine pitch-black,
That the pavement cracks threaten
To trap me in their glistening chrome,
To throw me off track;
To swallow me whole
As I wallow in lack.

Part crow part coat,
My umbrella tends to buckle.
A split-second decision to let go,
As my metal bird flies form my hands,
Higher and higher into the overcast wonderland.

My kerb is my tightrope,
Balancing on the concrete roller-coaster,
The thrill touches me on the shoulder,
But I have no safety rope,
I have no seat-belt,
In fact, I have no seat
So I must soldier on through the damp.

I make a leap of faith,
The patchy grass seems to stand to attention,
Commanding it's own death by drowning.
I press my feet in for protection,
But it seems like the sun is already crowning,
It is born as the clouds smother it with affection,
Though it appears unloved, frowning.

Suddenly my escapade seems so dry,
My murky eyes just want to get back inside,
Nearly happy but I clinch a lie,
As I need to pick myself up,
And away from this ride,
Suddenly it's gone awry,
My turn has passed,
My end implied.