Note: One should not post random verse, especially those deemed by oneself to be of a crappy quality. Unless, that is, at least three people demand it. Why? Who knows? You can blame KM,TR, and Pri for this. And no, still no clue what it's about. Pop-pyschologists may feel free to explore.

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Little by little,
in free-fall,
folding hands
hold up the ball;
and a big bird sings
in a far-away tone
for its lover's ring
to awaken the phone.

The bubble cries
for the stones are sweet;
there's nothing to ask for,
much less to keep.
And on dark mornings
death comes to meet,
talking softly over tea
as it tries not to weep.