Hope dangles delicately through the air
The drawing room is suddenly still,
A postcard is a symbol of an urgent prayer
Senders beware, there is no address in the receiving corner,
And heaven is a country, with too many families building homes.
I’m mid-way, a coin tossed,
A wish clinging like an old cardigan,
A nervous count to a verdict,
Each number whispering –
Stay. Stay. Stay.
(*Written from the point of view of a coin in mid-air).