Degrees of Difficulty

There was a girl I used to know 
who would swallow dive on to her 
four poster bed in times of excitement.

She’d start her run in the hallway –
ensure the matting was taped down hard.
Trips could lose her points, even smash a nose.

Afterwards, whilst smoking French cigarettes,
she’d recount other dives and falls. 
The twist of fate that broke her heart.