My hand cramps, refusing
To open and accept the gift.
Instead I hold, stubborn,
On what I know to be worthless,
And from my tight, clenched fist,
The offering slips through my grasp
And leaves mere skeletons
Of pleasure between my fingers -
Bare bones sucked dry of life,
Like guilt. Frantically, I open
My hands to remedy
The moment, but find I must wait
For another.
Photo Credit: Shin, Crom. dandelion. 20 May 2016. Flickr Creative Commons.
