below the measure comes up short... kind of a sport
     of melancholy retort

aloof and breathlessly cold, defiant and bold
   wasting no time remembering what was told

a quiet but steady chime, sullen places marking time
    hastily sorting moments - so sublime

I touched a leaf... stolen by chance like a thief
   brought back to a place of no relief

bringing water to thirst, like an unearned prize... a burst
     thinking it was just another's place... but in fact, I was first