Wednesday, 27 April 2011

Pass The Parcel.

Huddled up in an impression of a circle we sat,

Eager,

And alert,

For what is to come.


Everytime it would fall in ones lap,

The sensation it gives,

Makes one so numb.


With a watchful eye,

We'd watch it as it went around,

Wishing the world would go silent,

When it was in our hands.


That lucky one,

Takes it in,

And we all await,

As he peels layer by layer,

One after another.



Eventually uncovering what it holds,

We'd all stare at it dazzled,

Waiting to be told.




Just like in real life,

Things go around,

Sometimes your lucky to have them,

And sometimes your lucky to have played the game.



Nothing is what it seems,

Until you start getting to those layers,

Only then do you realise what you hold.


Pass it around,

Maybe then one day you'll get to keep it.




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