the ball

The Ball




Throw; throw that ball far away,

So that I may run and chase it

Throw it all day,

And I will return it to your feet with pace.



Never, will I tire,

But if you so much as turn your back,

And loose your desire,

As you often do;

I will stop you in your track.



With my body blocking the door,

My eyes, drawing you in, like a chin to the razor,

Questions will be made, that cannot be answered,

Only excuses given and I have heard them all.



When will you wake up, it is not the ball,

It is you I want,

Yet it is me, who haunts,

Your inner most thoughts.



You know our time ought to be more than next to naught.

So throw, throw that ball far away,

Before, you disappear for another day.