Two Sense

I am a penny blacked and scraped flat,

like the bottom of a well dug hole,

rusted by life; Bureaucrat,

heart working by rote,

who cannot get back

courage or faith

to give intact

her heart of longest longing.

I want to be a shiny penny again,

a small, copper version of the sun,

unsullied by life; Then,

brilliant with hope,

unencumbered limbs

are not afraid

to entwine him in

light of longest longing.

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