Mid-Air

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).

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