The Head That Balanced.

A notch aligned with a post

And perfectly balanced upon


is a head.


So precarious,

the slightest breathe of fate may

blow it from its perch.



The post





Alas, to no avail

the head remains true to its post

A finger moves a centimeter

A mother bemoans

A father drinks

A sister sobs

A brother hides

A wife grieves

A child

has to push themselves

on a wooden swing set

built by a love

that no longer may forge

childhood memories.


For the head has fallen

from its perilous perch.

A human yesterday

A number now

A million missed moments to be proud of tomorrow.





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