Vertigo

Vertigo

Some people don’t like pedestals
Some people don’t like heights
Rising to a challenge tall
Shrinking back in fright
As January blues they call
They beckon at the start
Seizing hard, they hold their thrall
Through washed out winter hearts
Hearts too drained to make the calls
Too weak to sell themselves
Damaged goods left off the stalls
Stacked high on store room shelves
As chances rise and dances fall
Abandoned in the night
Some people don’t like pedestals
… some are scared of heights