Pennies in a Garden

We are merely pawns, and somehow get caught between leisure and survival.

Our elementary needs are no longer constant,

But instead we become picked up, brushed aside, and looked over.

Our hearts beat us on towards a final place, where we become hyphenated.

Combining us unto one,  most deserving soul.

That person we long to survive with,

But dare not think of life without.

For life would be cold like dice amongst our hands,

A mere song without a tongue to sing the verses.

At a time, I was moving through spaces,

Somewhere past leisure and well beyond survival.

I had become somebody else’s goal.

When all other promises were lost,

As if they were pennies in a garden full of weeds.

You picked me up, and moved me past go.

Unto one most deserving soul.

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