Tights and tightropes,
I’m crossing over
to your thinking,
in baby steps.

Balancing all the books,
you taught me to interpret
the varied looks,
the windy way you read me.

Walking the high wire
of a beautiful desire,
Flashy flailing,
leaning towards your likeness.

Tethered to tomorrow,
free-fallen from dream.
I’d brave the highest skywalk
to touch ground within your reach.

Slack-lining,
free-hand forward,
you center my mass
across your iron core.
The twists work their own way out.