She is not without her charms,
spill-and-spangling both her arms
with jangled pieces of her past.
If you take the time to ask
her where she got one, she’ll stop
and tell you its story, just plop
right down and unclasp its center,
tell you the places life has bent her
and how a sliver of shaped silver
gave her hope and helped her pilfer
a possibility or two along the way.
And if you smile, or sigh, she’ll say
she understands. When the sun
slants just right, it all shines like one
in a million, a billion-starred wrist.
And even when she shakes a fist,
the sound is tinkling bells, reminding her
that happiness is still finding her.
Writing for Toads today, too. You?