Queue (queue) wrote,



Parlous pleasures were in my sight
on that cold December day.
The wind was loud, the air was bright,
as I heard the pilot say:

"We're much too high
for you to jump
with any kind of care.
If you don't mind,
let's turn around,
and safely land down there."

I turned and gave a little smile
and fell out, turning round.
I thought about my life a while,
before I hit the ground.

Eh, not so happy with the ending, but there you go, my crappy poetry for the day. I posted this one as a comment on the Word of the Day RSS feed again. This time, I included a little note asking if anyone else wanted to write crappy poetry.

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