This Long Pause

Perched upon the precipice of a downward spiraled slope,
buzzing with vertigo, upon the dias of love’s bright hopes,
She postpones conclusions, waits out the crash
hoping against a fall, precarious -hung on lost updrafts.
The loft of rising breaths spun too high, too free, too hot,
to withstand such halt of gust and simply settle into naught.
Let this be the poignant pause to punctuate the rise…
not the hover before the drop, not this love’s demise.

Painting: Red Dress by Michael Austin