The Edge

Written after receiving news that a good friend has suffered a massive stroke and may not recover.

THE EDGE

By Wayne Visser

The world is round

Until we walk right off the edge

Our lives are poised

Forever teetering on a ledge

Endless circles

Round and round

Until it stops

Without a sound

The world is round

A perfect, spinning, sparkling sphere

Our lives are strung

Stitched up with love and glued with fear

Unravelling

Start to end

We fall apart

We lose a friend

The world is round

But it may just as well be flat

Our lives are linked

Forever breaching this and that

No matter what

We reap behind

What counts is how

We sowed our time

Copyright 2012

Still Pond (poem)

Written about a spot in the woods near where I live ...

STILL POND

By Wayne Visser

There is a secret place on Hampstead Heath

Where ancient trees surround a pond of peace

Where ducks and moorhens strut and preen

Where a silent heron stands guard, unseen

The seasons lap like tides upon the trees

Budding and blooming and scattering leaves

While the pond breathes its living ebb and flow

From winter’s frost-glass to summer’s fire-glow

I visit there to find my resting place

A calm eye amidst life’s swirling pace

I visit there to renew my earthly bond

To find myself, reflected, in the still pond.

Copyright 2012