He walks a limb, unconcerned, undeterred, master of his own destiny.
Alone at the top of the world, competent, exuberant.
Dangling meters above the earth, unafraid, unhampered.
Innocence in motion, carefree; nonchalance as an art form.
My heart climbs with this fearless child, for my body no longer can.
May he know this joy for the entirety of his life.
A trip through life with fingers crossed and eternal optimism.
Doing the best I can with what I have
kind of sad, but not so bad with cheese. cheese not provided.
My streams of thought meet here
Conceptual Photographer and Writer
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Besteesydian
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Life in a flash - a bi-weekly storytelling blog
MARK PETRUSKA | WRITER
Short essays about novels and other fictional works
By Ian Garrabrant
Home of Micropoetry, Literature, art and philosophy.
Just a fiction writer, trying to reach the world.
I'd curtsy but I'm drunk.
Praying for Eyebrowz 
I raised a whole slew of tree climbers. You’re right. They know no fear or have a healthy respect for it and trust their instincts. I love this.
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Thank you! This kid has no fear.
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And barefoot, too
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Always! Except when he’s riding his motorcycle or chopping down trees.
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That’s a touching poem. Your grandson looks pretty comfortable up there among the branches, not to mention cool with his shades on.
I used to love climbing trees too. Sadly, I’m not sure I could still climb them nowadays. I’m confident my ability to fall out of them remains undiminished, though.
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Pull out that sequined paper bag and see what what happens.
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I’m having second thoughts…
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