Pawn Shop
It sat with double doors propped open
inviting the poor, the sad, the broken
Its dusty shelves stuffed and sated
with objects – some fresh, others dated
I carried my dreams with heavy arms
formerly dazzling magical charms
Now in tattered cardboard boxes
a life in unresolved paradoxes
Prized possessions, cherished memories
adored as luxurious shiny accessories
Their worth besmirched and unfamiliar
traded for coins of gold and silver.
Copyright © Linda Alice Fowler | Year Posted 2025
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