Sunday, July 30, 2017

bona fides

against her 
better judgment 
she believed 
the paper promises 
of time
every passing hour 
passing as her bona fides
wisdom's diploma
writ in the wrinkles
of her smile
the crinkle of her eyes
and yet no wiser she
just a miser
holding tight to
the little she had known
until as dry dust
the seeds of what she knew
too desiccated to plant again



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