This is all I ask For


I am worthless

With my long brown stockings

And plaits flung along the floor

A slip

A trick

A bit of luck

Hard, resolute in my pocket

I like your song, his voice breathes in my ear

I am left alone

With my old Master's gramophone

I hurl it, tossing it away

High and free

Alone, away from me

The pigeon follows, blindly falling

Flung along the floor