The stand before the fall,
Felt nothing much for me.
The fall and it's hurt,
Meant different things to me.
The fall consisted of hurt,
Adventure and confusion.
As I caught myself against a tree,
I tightened my grip.
I swayed in a motion that gave,
Into another fall still.
But the way I handled it,
Was the victory in the fall.
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Comments about this poem (The Fall by Vera Sidhwa )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(12 July 1817 – 6 May 1862)
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