By gravity far and wide and loud,
We make the mistake of being above,
And try insist on being the birds above.
To this we throw our item of love and hope,
And pray above it will stay afloat,
With luck and care and careful guiding,
It drifts and bobs without a hiding,
Then gravity says all is not wright,
And takes a hold with glee and smite,
We aim, we glide, we fly, we cringe,
To finish at last and not to whinge,
To at last land with dignity and style,
and miss the bloody spot by a mile.
(Simon Said)
