by joetwo

I throw it in the heat of the play

Not caring where it lands

It sails through the air, on an unknown course

Its movement, in gods hands.

There is a thud and down it sinks

It settles where it lies.

But when we go to reclaim it

It’s gone, our joy, it dies.

We search, we seek, to no avail

We shuffle back to home,

We imagine that it waits for us

Sitting, cold, alone.

For that day, to our dismay

There’s days the gods will punish those

Who’re careless when they play.