Trip, now stumble,
and you are down
those stairs
before I can breath.

My arms grab
the stale air,
as you slip through
like water.

Ten of them.
Ten stairs,
and ten dull thunks
as you bounce off each.

For the first time
I am flying
down to you,
with frozen heartbeats.

It remains clear.
Kisses won't make this better,
no wishing away the bad.
I am not Mary Poppins.