THE RED BALL ON THE WINDOW PANE

See how it teases, rocking back and forth at the edge
Of that skeletal window pane

Like a tree stripped of its leaves,
When winter begins to nip each tip

A red ball braving a fall,
In its imagination

Steady as she goes, capturing moments as they fleet
Not yielding and almost yielding

Proud and glittering in its red splendor, inching towards uncertain steps
For another inch would make it fall back helplessly

To the earth and its gravity, to the gravity and its reality
In its redness, it moves back embracing cowardice

Then a paroxysm of courage,
Naturally pushing it towards that end

Forth the rim of infinite possibilities,
Possibilities of being absolute

All it can see is the redness in itself,
Circular and round, bouncy

It rolls over slowly towards the yawning four-sided gap
As if a small child hesitant to let go of his mothers hand

While crossing an empty road,
As if a curious animal testing the unfamiliarity of an object

And it retreats back several steps
Then it comes back again

Testing and teasing what it hasn’t
For it must be done, the thirst for knowledge to be satisfied

Red and arrogant of its bearing,
It neared the rough wooden pane, termites carrying scraps on the side

Jump…

Down goes, and she could fly for a moment
The touch of the demanding breeze kept balance

But she will hit the ground soon,
And she will bounce back

Do it over again,
Just like how it should be.

--oOo--