Once upon a time


She unclasps and clasps

her last dollar  bill

before

setting it

on the counter,

noticing 

it’s edges

as thin as an empty snail shell

growing pale

in moonbeams

her eyebrows sigh

at it’s weight 

of lack

sitting 

upon her back

which grows rusty as an Autumn leaf 

in October’s itch,

the lump in her throat

rises

like the breast

of a lonesome dove,

and so saying ,

she falls

in a whirlwind of harried thoughts,

unheard dew drops

on grass blades

find her shoulders

uncut

so she lets

breezes carry her

away

that’s all of the story 

i know 

but perhaps,

she and the wind will live 

happily ever after 

perhaps, 

this is how all stories…

begin

11 comments

  1. There are lifetimes of stories in this poem just bursting to come out. Whilst it feels sad there is that hopeful turn to it at the end which makes me wonder what will happen next, with a sense of empathic longing taking my imagination down so many roads.

    Liked by 2 people

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