Apollo

I love this poem. A girl, Lexie, scribbled this on my folder at lunch one day. She was in my first year acting class, and the total opposite of me: punk, tatoos (yes, that was THEN, not now), piercings, pot smoking. I liked her. Anyway, she just came to my table (we were having lunch at the diner on the corner), sat down, scribbled this poem, and walked away. It has stuck with me ever since.

Apollo stood on a high cliff.
"Come to the edge," he said.
"We can't," they said.
"Come to the edge," he said.
"We're afraid," they said.
"Come to the edge," he said.
"We'll fall," they said.
"Come to the edge," he said.
And they did. And he pushed them. And they flew.