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Rated: 18+ · Prose · Emotional · #2274504
Sating the desires of the heart and mind can be much like awaiting pennies from heaven
Pennies From Heaven

(A penny for the Old Guy)

By


Ophelia Mae Hancock


June 8, 2022




Dedicated to R, my soulmate:



Some day my prince will come...

Some day my ship will come in...

Happily ever after...

Somewhere over the rainbow...

My bluebirds have been flying for so long that their little wings have become weary.

They struggle to soar...

I hear the off key tune of pipe dreams...

Pot of gold at the end of the rainbow that one never finds...

Rainbow in the dark...

That damn greedy little leprechaun!

Chase the rainbow only for the end to be always shifting, then the vapors dispate...

All a rainbow really is, water vapor hanging in the atmosphere, sunlight glancing off it...

Made out to be so magical in so many ways, but no more of a miracle than any other weather...

An illusion...

Yes, God's promise, and all that rot...

But who really cares?

For your reward in heaven is great...

But I am here...

I am falling short of the grace, but what else is new?

I find any promises of joy to be as empty as a begger's purse...

I slip down into the worn hole at the bottom, the place that has seen many coins and no coins...

The place of fumbling, what is my value, what do I possess in this world, what do I have to give...

I find myself shoveling the coal within a flame that begs more than I can give...

My brow sweats, and my body overheats within the exertion...

And my mind questions...

Questions...

Questions...

What is the definition of insanity?

How do the common folk like to sugar coat it?

How sweet is it on the other side of the coin?

How tedious and arduous should the harvest be?

When is enough ever enough?

When is the time to cut losses?

When does the blight finally consume the field?

Why can we not single out that one bad apple for the well-being of all others?

But control...

Control...

Control...

For everyone has a price on their head...

And all can be bought for just the right price...

The sordid matter of coin...

Coin...

Coin...

Yet nothing worth having ever comes easy...

But at what cost?

How much is that little doggie in the window?

I do hope that doggie is for sale...

I do hope that my psyche possesses the appropriate currency...

And I do hope that it will not be the king's ransom...

And I do hope that it will not deplete me of my generous yet hidden Fort Knox...

A calloused finger digs once again into the sow's ear purse...

A hopeless cause...

A moot point...

St. Judes prayer shall fall on deaf ears...

For I burn way too bright and way too hot for my own good...

Icarus...

I want too much...

I am not satisfied by the norm...

I am far from the norm...

And I am miserable because of it...

I often wonder why...

But mine is not to question...

It is apparently just a cross to bear...

For what sin, I do not know...

Original sin perhaps?

Yet made in His own image, so how am I to be blamed?

My country's creed assures me the right to pursue happiness...

Yet it doesn't tell me how futile of an effort that is...

Promise is not reality...

So where are you?

My Adam to my Eve?

My Romeo to my Juliet?

Mr Horribly Wrong yet Mr Irresistible?

My cooling quenching water to my hot arid flames?

Where are you?

Where is the one that is not afraid of my feral insanity, for he knows he can tame me?

Where is the one that has the artistry to do such, to overcome my reservations?

Where is the one to show Lilith the happiness in slavery?

Oh where, oh where, has my little dog gone?

Oh where, oh where can he be?

I suppose he has gone over the rainbow...

Oh why, oh why, can't I?

© Copyright 2022 Ophelia Mae Hancock (ohancock at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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