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
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.
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Good to hear:).. thanks so much … have a wonderful day:)
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You too! 😊
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🙂
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Yes, this beautiful piece seems like a tender summary of a brief moment.
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:)… wishing you loveliness on this beautiful autumn Friday:)
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And to you lovely Ms Bouquets! The Autumn colours are entirely stunning to behold. Although I am at work and just imagining them lol!
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🙂
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Aren’t they?… I read ur comment as my daughter calls to me from down the hall… “isn’t it a beautiful day?”
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High five to your lovely daughter for appreciating the simple things. Say g’day!
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🙂
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