My heart, adept at somersaults,
sticks the perfect landing.

The pain in my knees though tells me that
it’s not that long till fall.

So tape me up
to brace me tight
in time for another go.

Madly to the springboard
without stopping to plant
I soar of my own desire.

I emulate feathers floating
till ground.

To lie there
spying clouds move
up and down as well as left and right.

In motion emotionally always
forever truly yours.

Chagall 2016