Just a tiny silver ball on a string

Lying on my chest beneath my chin,
I strain my eyes, trying to get a closer look at you.
Until finally I stop and give a grin.

Cross-eyed, double-chinned, I see you,
Rolling and racing on your ragged string,
Like a tiny grain of couscous escaping from your kin.

At first glance one would say,
“Just a tiny silver ball on a string… just a tiny silver ball.”
Without even giving you a second chance.

To me you are a part of my heart, but on top of the skin,
The part that makes me start
And makes my body begin.

Witnessing every note of exaggeration,
And every instant
Of a new sensation

And yet, after all you have seen, still subject to misinterpretation,
And after all the places you have been,
The victim of others' false expectations.

But still, I guess, you must mean less,
After all, you’re just a tiny silver ball on a string.