A ball of twine

A ball of twine, not much to look at.
Feel it in your hands, go on, pick it up.
Place it between your dry red palms.
Roll it back and forth, pretend, even,
that it is a massage ball.
Close your eyes, as it sends tingles down your spine.
To your scalp even? If you give it time.
Loosen it, if you could,
Untangle it, as if you should.
Leave it, should you have better things to do.
Throw it towards the sky, go on, hard as you dare.
Keep your eyes on it as it moves, amidst the cold wet air.
Keep your eyes on it as it falls, loosened or not?
Still a ball, or not at all?
Is it going to hit you on the head and bounce right off?
Or land at your feet, sad, limp and bored?
A ball of twine I now stare at, thinking,
how lovely it is, helping time pass me by.