Don’t Cross That Line.


‘Don’t cross that line.’
I said, and he didn’t. 
He walked right on it.
Balanced on the,
bounds of limitation,
at the edge of crisis.
Teetering on the white,
line on the platform,
protection from the, 
trains buffeting.
He was only three
already liberated.
Walking the line.
Free to topple,
one side or the other,
to safety, or to danger.
Then the train came.
My hand held back,
from grabbing him,
my heart like,
mortar in my breast.
Trust. The wild wind,
thrust against his body.
Trust. The raw adventure
in his blue eyes. He
doesn’t want to colour
in the lines. Trust.
Watch him shine.
Celebrate his wildness,
show him where the
line is,and know he will
draw his own. Lines that
define his wild nature,
boundaries he can be within.
Not a mother’s cotton
wool smothered love;

Lisa Goodwin – April 2014



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4 responses to “Don’t Cross That Line.

  1. Great poem…the tension I feel reading this brings back my own memories! You’ve written a great piece and so wise too!

  2. Pingback: From a Photo – Story Prompt #5 | We Drink Because We're Poets

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