An occasional stumble is seasonal to the course
And trees shed their leaves in the same light as fall
And the winds on occasion bend trunks

Why have elasticity if not to be used
Why have instinct of reaction
And not know stumble to stand

But don’t let me fall
And land not on my feet
Or go so low, that I can’t stand

Don’t break my crystal
With crimson bleed
What treasure I have, even on my grave

Don’t steal my pride and unplug my feathers
Don’t look for my fall and say you are a friend
And let me down, and stand on my fall

© kodjo deynoo

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