Pocket Wishes

Some toss their wishes
over their shoulders,
like little pieces of paper
scattered on the wind
and fallen, frozen in the ice,
hardly noticed underfoot
by unsuspecting passers-by,
believing them worthless,
the weight of their disappointment
too heavy to carry.
 
I slip mine quietly into my pocket,
keeping them close
where I can run my fingers over them,
memorizing their contours,
their textures,
occasionally cupping them
in the palm of my hand
to feel the warmth
of their mere existence.
 
And once in a while, 
when I least expect it,
I can pull one out,
kiss it tenderly,
and release it, like a dove
flying into the sun,
a gold charm at its neck
inscribed with the word
Fulfilled





november 2010