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2: Izzy Hughes-Morgan

1/2/2015

0 Comments

 
With a start, we lurched,
Climbed rung upon rung,
Reached the summit and
Shuddered to a still,
Jutting out against the sky
In a brandished fist.
 
I cast a sidelong glance
And caught myself, smaller,
Gazing longingly at the teacups,
Bumper cars, carousel,
Something less nauseating

Whilst I, next to her,
Now far outgrown,
Felt only the restraining belt
And a towering sense of vertigo
When I looked down
To see our parents
Waving like soldiers’ wives.
 
But as we teetered in cold terror
And I swallowed my racing pulse
I perceived a newfound freedom:
We were almost out of sight,
And anyway, from this height
They looked like children themselves.
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