I'm terrified of cliffs or bluffs that overlook
tiny streams that flow way, way below.
Those skyscraper views from penthouse suites,
I'll not glance down, but will retreat at least ten feet.
Climbing a ladder leaned against the house
to clean out gutters, wash a filthy window,
I'll tremble, totter on each rung.
I've never skied, nor oohed the sights
from a rocking chair lift all because
I know I'd stand up, want to jump.
Some say I'm silly, but they don't know
how petrified I can become--
a victim of my fear of heights.