just feel like writing some poems! so here it is, though it don't look like one. =)

love is..
like a ball to her.

Since young, she don't like to be near the ball
It looks v. dangerous to her.
Whenever she tries approaching it,
accidents happen, like the spectacles will be hit by the ball
So she stays as far as she can

Once or twice,
the ball will roll to her feet, waiting for her to pick up
But she just waits,
waits for the ball to jump up

Alas, it is just a ball,
a ball everyone desires.
Other rightful owner takes it before she makes up her mind
So, it has never been hers

Perhaps on one fateful day
the ball might fall near her again
when that day approaches
she will have the bravery to pick up the ball
and hold it tight