One delicious stoke at an oh so delicate time
Church towers, climbing somebody’s on a cutthroat rope to nowhere
Where he will sit ’til it all starts to make a little or a whole lot more sense
Just. Don’t. Look. Down.
On a most preciously secretive knife-edge indeed
And never, ever be afraid to add a dash of colour to your most prestigious Mosque
Far more distanced grounds safely sketched on into typically unforgiving backgrounds
Particular methods to everybody’s madness or so it does seem